A philosophical doggo. A hedonistic cat. Life is good. (Thanks to the comic “Bliss” for the happy thought.)
Harry Bliss is a cartoonist for the New Yorker, so it’s no wonder why I can’t figure out some of his work. But he does Chas. Addamsesque stuff at times, and at others, a cartoon is so sad (like a distraught little squirrel sitting on a park bench with a grieving man) that I have to mess with it, or I get all sad and snorfly, too.
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