Beau: The Art Critic

Beaumont: Louise, dahling, that photo of me is giving off some serious “trying too hard” vibes.

Me: Uh huh. (sipping coffee, pretending to be engrossed in my Instagram feed)

Beau: “Uh huh”? What kind of sophisticated response is that?

Me: The kind that doesn’t dignify your snark with a witty comeback.

Beau: Snark? More like art criticism, Louise. You’ve got more filters on that photo than I have fur.

Me: (scoffs) Oh please, Beau. It’s just a bit of fun. Lighten up.

Beau: (dramatic sigh) Louise, Louise, Louise. You’re missing the point. Why hide me behind all that digital fakery when I’m perfectly fabulous au naturel? I’m willing to embrace the wrinkles, the fluff, the glorious mess that is ME. Why aren’t you?

Me: (defensive) Fakery? Beau, that photo of you is 100% real. Not a single pixel out of place.

Beau: (raises a furry eyebrow) Really, now? Last time I checked, I didn’t have a halo of light around my head or sparkly stars that could rival the aurora borealis.

Me: Okay, fine, there might be a few minor adjustments. But it’s all in the name of artistic expression!

Beau: (scoffs louder this time) Artistic expression? More like artistic deception. You know, the real masterpiece is the unfiltered, unedited, beautifully flawed life we’re living right now. Ditch the filters, darling, and let your true colours shine.

Me: (grumbling under breath) Easier said than done when you’re living with a Sheepadoodle who’s a harsher critic than the New York Times.

Sigh. And there you have it, another Sunday showdown with Beaumont, the four-legged connoisseur of all things real and unfiltered. Looks like my artsy-fartsy photo experiments have officially been dashed. But seriously? Does he have to squash my artsy-fartsy efforts with such a big scoop of dawgie-doodoo? Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go drown my sorrows in a pint of chocolate mint ice cream.