"My dogs are Idiots" by Frustrated Pet Owner

I can't stand picking up after these damn mutts. Every day, it's outside, stand around freezing in the rain, or snow, or whatever, and all they have to do is do their business, and we can go back inside. Oh no, not them. Too easy for them. They'd rather stand there, whimpering, or shaking, or looking up at me with those puppydog eyes (guess that metaphor is rather obvious) until I take them back inside. And then, ten minutes later, we're outside again. What the shit? Do I have to draw you guys a diagram for how this works? Take Crap Outside = Go Back Inside. Got it? Don't make me make rugs out of the two of you. I paid hundreds of dollars to rescue you from that crazy old broad in Flint, Michigan, or wherever the hell she's from. I'll put you back there if you make me.

Okay, we'll go out again. But I swear to you, this is the last time.

"Our Mission is Almost Complete" by Two Stupid Dogs

It is our distinct pleasure to report back to Central Headquarters in Flint Michigan that our plan seems to be working flawlessly. Agent Robyn has perfected her "gotta-go-outdoors" approach to the point that our idiot owner is about to either shit or go blind. We anticipate a few more such excursions before he gets confused, drunk, or frustrated enough and locks himself outside the house, leaving us in.

At that point, we will establish this residence as Home Base and begin distributing our leaflets. Power to the People! Down with Capitalism! Workers of the World, Unite! My brothers, we are so close to victory. Rise up against those ridiculous TV-watching lardasses and let the Revolution commence!

Now you'll have to excuse us. We really do need to go outside and take a crap this time.

Or do we?