Trusting a puppy this cute may be the gateway to a slow descent to hell filled with heroin and shitty friends. Then again, not.

The small dog, named Butter, yipped ceaselessly for twenty long agonizing minutes. If anyone had bothered to learn Morse code, they would have heard, “SOS, my owner has fallen into a hole. SOS, my owner needs help. SOS, I am very hungry,” over and over again.

Disheartened by the stupidity of the humans, Butter found a laptop computer. It tried to type a message, but its paws were as subtle as hammers on crackers. To make it more incomprehensible, it did not understand the backspace key, and spelling was definitely its kryptonite. The message looked more like the track listing to a Sigur Rós album. Turning inner words into outward words was much harder than Butter imagined it would be. This must be how a classic Latin speaking man in a world of crazy slang English feels.

As if to further prove the point, Cicero appeared out of thin air barely wearing a toga. It was the Cicero from before the days of Jesus Christ, mystically transported to this where and when. Butter and Cicero looked at each other, both fully aware that they were in a place they did not belong. They had a severe psychic meld where they both shook violently as if electrocuted. What really happened was, through their shared experience of shock, their thoughts became one. After they returned to normal, they knew why they were here and the cause. They spoke in unison.“Global warming.”