Oh noooo, a puppy, my mortal weakness. I must fly away to my arboreal abode and think of a new plan of attack, probably involving crapping in someone's water bowl and eating all the kibble in the morning. Prometheus-style.

[He raises his hand high.]

Off I go flapping the feathery piece of gargbage I call my ass into the sun. Which I guess is over there.

[He corrects his imaginary trajectory, then turns to look at Xion. Very seriously, he says:]

Pchoo.