The ground is shaking, the trees are falling, yet somehow, sweet girl, your nose is pressed against the dirt.

I yank and pull your chain as you remain consumed by your sniffing endeavor.

Oh, you lovable little shit - wasting time as disaster wastes the lives around you - yet your canine love for humans does little to deter your obsession with the filthy ground.

If a tsunami were to hit, you wouldn't take a hint of danger. If the forest were on fire, your nose would go haywire, desperate to sniff the smoke. If nuclear radiation killed us, it would certainly thrill your sense of smell.

Now an earthquake shakes Mother Earth, yet you're still sniffing like a dork. But I doubt I could put a cork in your snoot as you continue to sniff.

People are running, screaming as the earth quakes and trembles, and yet you're still sniffing the ground, furiously searching for that piece of pie you had your eye on during our last walk.

Houses burn, cars are totaled, roads crack, and your nose is still to the ground, chasing that elusive scent.

Why must you sniff while disaster befalls us all?

You've spent ten minutes glued to the ground, perusing some phantom smell, oblivious to oblivion itself.

Hurry the fuck up! Let's go - let's flee before mortal terror, before your nose puts us in the ground.