Perhaps my dog, Fredo, was doomed when I named him. Like his namesake, he is helpless, sweet, a complete pussy, and prone to whoring himself out to my enemies. But most of all, he is dumb. Good lord, is he ever dumb.
His water bowl is downstairs. Whenever I come home after a lengthy absence, I tend to go straight down there, because that's also where the TV is. It's at that point that a parched Fredo fills his hump with water, slurping mightily for several minutes. Because he certainly couldn't go down the stairs without me.