I called my Dad to tell him about how I had spent my entire life thinking that the Bichons Frise were in the Toy group, but in actuality are in the Non-Working group and how I might have to take a nap after having my mind blown in such a way. I then proceeded to tell him about how today is a good day because of all of the cute puppydogs I saw during my run, including--but not limited to--the corgi that was hunching way down and walking, thereby looking like it had even shorter legs than it does as well as my favorite of the neighborhood dogs, cute-nosed Sherpa. He listened, and then said, "Well, since you're in such a good mood, why don't you google the poem "In Flanders Field" and read it. And so I did.

Dad, why did you want me to read such a depressing poem?

You were in too good a mood.