For example, Weezy gets a really high-pitched, cracked out voice when either of us narrates her behavior. We definitely play around with her the most because she really is off her rocker. When we call her and she comes running, or she makes really strange faces, one of us says something in our "Weezy voice" that is somewhat reflective of what we honestly think she thinks. I'm sure we are totally off. The picture below may give you an idea of the voice we deem appropriate.
Mags gets a sweet voice. Innocent, thoughtful, kind. She's the best dog you could ever ask for. Yes, there's a voice for that.
Unfortunately, I can't show an individual pic of Mags, because she's terrified of anything that remotely looks like a camera. She was so photogenic as a pup, but one day, she decided to shake vehemently and pant uncontrollably after I took a picture of her. I have no idea where it came from, but any time I pull out my phone (black and rectangular like the camera) she walks right out of the room. That goes for my Kindle, too.
And then there's Fred.
To me, he has a normal, teenager voice. He's got attitude, wants very little to do with his Momma, but is as sweet as can be when he wants something. So, in my head, Fred's got teenage angst.
Justin gives Fred the whiniest voice you could ever imagine. He thinks Fred is weak, annoying, and nerdy (because he's got allergies and sneezes, which translates to nerdy, in his book).
My hubs pretends to hate the cat. (Is this a guy thing?) He tells Fred he's stupid. He calls him names and acts like he's a waste of space, but at the end of the day, Fred ironically chooses Justin as his cuddle buddy. It's ridiculous and unfair in my world of animal love, because I've had Fred longer than I've known Justin, and quite frankly it offends me. But you know cats. They do what they want. And Justin secretly loves him.
Every day we wake up to two dogs in the bedroom. Ideally, they'd stay on their large makeshift palette on the floor. They do, but they've also mastered somehow getting on the bed ever so softly, so that we honestly do not notice until the wee hours of the morning. For that, they are spoiled and pretty much impossible to train differently. We don't mind for now. But tell me: How could you not adore waking up to this?