Ok, so my job, as a drug-sniffing dog, is to make sure cars in the ferry line don’t have drugs or things that might explode. So I shuffle around eagerly with my handler, sniffing bumpers. Honestly, most of the bumpers smell like piss and salt, but it’s a pretty good gig. I mean, I get to be outside, sometimes there are dogs in the other cars, and, if I’m really lucky, I get a fricking hot dog and a round of fetch when it’s all over. Sure, I could be living the high-life on a farm somewhere, chasing chickens or some crap like that. But I am proud to be a public servant. My mom and dad were award-winning birders. But I’ve never been super fast, and I don’t like carrying around a dead bird in my mouth. That’s gross, right?! I’d rather stick to bumpers and hot dogs. Plus, have you ever stuck your head out of a cop car while it’s whizzing down the road with the sirens blaring. That is the coolest thing ever. Seriously. Sometimes I think about what it would be like to settle down and have some puppies, but–married life, who needs it, am I right?! It’s a good gig, sniffing bumpers. I’m happy.