.....take a few laps from the puddle of red stuff that is forming by Dad's side. It's really quite nice and reminds you of the lovely steak that Mom sometimes gives you for dinner. A little light pops on in your doggy head. Does that mean that Dad.... is FOOD?
Shaken by the possibility that Dad is (by now, possibly was) a living steak, you begin to back away.
"Hey Lassie, whatcha doing.... ohmygosh, DAD!!" You spin around to see Timmy approaching you and the steak - you mean, Dad.
Confused by all the existential uncertainty, you charge towards Timmy.
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