A pug with conjunctivitis looks like the height of late-1980s horror movie monster effects. A mixture of animatronics and expertly developed fluids meant to mimic living effluence, it's a 10-pound waking nightmare with a curly cue of a tail. Gone is the snuffly little mug that could hop on your lap and lick your face, instead replaced with the grim visage of a torn anus with a nose and a smile that drools too much.
I assume a vet has drops for this or pills you have to hide in tiny pieces of hot dog so your silly beast will be fooled into taking them. Until that time, though, suffer the fate of trying to pretend your glurpy-eyed critter is still cute.
FrankWinkler / pixabay
A snake is a semi-sentient meat sock. It's autonomous, it likes to lick the air a lot, and maybe it will spit venom in your eye if you try to charm it at a sideshow. Who's to say? In general, though, it's just a tube with a face on it and people seem to fear them. Imagine that. Imagine feeling cold dread in your gut when you see a sock or a loose condom. In fairness, my heart does skip a beat when I see an errant road condom, because I'm struck with the paranoid-yet-unreasonable belief that, somehow, a wind will lift it up and get it on me. Like it will just twist into the air and splat, oozey opening first, right against my lips, right at the corner where no matter how hard I try to squeeze my mouth shut, a little will creep in. And the absolute worst part will be identifying some kind of passion fruit-flavored lubricant and a cold, salty, oily something. And no amount of puking and washing will ever make it go away.