Looks like he is waiting for you to brew him a nice cup of tea to go with his biscuit.

Our dog Wendy does that too, and usually drools around it. Not a pretty picture.

Biscuit and gravy. Never pretty.

Hee! Arthur duz teh same thing! Every morning before I go to ‘work’ I leave teh Cookies of Command for him – and some days he chows down and some days he nibbles them thru teh house. I think the rule is that being In Command means u dont haz to eat them until u feel like it.

Always with the feckin’ drama, these boys!!!

He’s such a good boy, even when he’s stubborn.

Thank you for bringing us the bassets Tbogg. They are always a welcome respite from the usual din.

I think you’ve got this all wrong, TBogg. Fenway thinks it is a Biscotti and he’s waiting for his cappuccino.

Has he ever tried to bury it in the living room?

Makes sense to me. After all, contra TBogg, he definitely doesn’t look like he’s carrying anything around in this photo.

Still, a nice picture.

Hahahahaha!( I don’t lol) It’s possible he is hungry but just wants to parade it around in front of Wembly, kind of a doggie Neener-neener-neener.
Our Doxie mix used to carry his half worked over chewies around, walking slowly and looking for a place to hide it(under a towel or something) and if he noticed you watching he would go off into another room so you wouldn’t know where he put it.

Beautiful doggy…

Max the semi-greyhound does much the same. He loves getting a biscuit and being told he’s a good boy, but as for actually eating them–meh. We were unaware of his biscuit preservation until his brother Sam went to dog heaven a few months ago. Sam was apparently shaking Max down for all of his spare biscuits.

Who knew bassets had such strange tongues???

As with all siblings (de facto, in this case), keeping a goodie away from the other guy is so much better than actually eating the goodie. Until you feel like eating it, of course; then it’s even better since the other guy really wants it by then, having eaten his long ago.

Oh, I needed this funny-sweet picture. Thanks, Fenway, and TBogg.

That really is a beautiful shot, Dogpop. Warm caramel eyelashes, yet. Too bad our semi-baboon ancestry does not permit us to look so lovely when we’re in the midst of establishing hegemony.

Our recently-late Albert the Pug had, in his youth, a similar thing about treat placement. Only if it was a exceptional treat, like a piece of marrow bone. You’d give it to him, he’d take it in his short-but-powerful jaws, and then proceed to stomp around the family room where we eat, out into the kitchen, back into the family room, out again, all the while groaning and whining and kvetching around the bone, expressing his dismay that in his own home, there was not ONE suitable place for a gentleman to settle down to a good gnaw. He’d almost always end up back in the family room with us, on his floor cushion with the bone propped between his paws. But the complaining promenade had to come first. He’d have been a welcome addition to the 2nd Tenor section of the Helsinki Complaints Choir. Learning Finnish would have been a snap.

Tbogg makes a truly delectable cranberry and pistachio biscotti that is to die for….dogs however, are not allowed to indulge.

The Wolfpack at the International Center in Minnesota, are routinely fed roadkill scrapped up by the DNR, who cut the deer in pieces before tossing it to the pack. The alpha female would horde the whole pile of deer parts, while strutting around dragging the deer head in her mouth. I thus conclude that Fenway is a wolf.

We’re all wolves now….