This Sunday is election day in Sweden. I didn’t vote today, though I did of course cast my vote earlier (at the library actually), because I wanted to avoid any queueing. (I absolutely loathe queueing.) Apparently some eager dogs had brought their bipedal friends along to the local polling station today. We wonder if they let their humans have a say? We passed the place, and took this picture of two extinguished canine voters, accompanied by a substantial group of bipedal followers.
Östra Real, Stockholm.
Mr Dog assures me that whoever wins the Swedish election — which he doesn’t give a toss about — I am a very subordinate citizen of a certain canineocratic state. The no cats-policy is not up for a vote. Delicious food and snacks is a fundamental canine right, one that I would be unwise to question, lest I wish to receive some gruesome punishment. ‘Obey the Nose’, he says. I politely try to tell him he’s got a decomposed leaf dangling from one side of the divine Nose. ‘It’s a conscious fashion statement’, he scolds me, ‘this Nose knows what it is doing!’
Mr Dog today, observing weird humans.