Dog TV. We have it. It's called the front door. It's like cable (a thousand channels!), only instead of MTV, we have lowriders that drive by with the music up real loud; and instead of nature shows, we have birds that do things; and instead of reality shows about skanky housewives, we have cats that believe our gravel-filled yard is the giantest, most awesome litter box ever made; and instead of shows about real crime, we HAVE real crime.
And sometimes we have yelling children and yard sales and bicycles and people walking their dogs and neighbors bringing us homemade pies (and other suspicious foods) and people who do meter-reading and Recycling Monsters and Fed Ex guys and that one dog that always sticks his head out the car window and barks rhythmically as the car moves down the street so that you can hear him coming kind of faintly and then he gets louder and louder and LOUDER until he's right in front of the house and then he gets fainter and fainter until he's gone. I love the reruns of that one, but Lila's favorite shows are the cat ones and the ones where the neighbors send their children over to borrow things.
Dog TV. It's like sitting your children down in front of cartoons with a bowl of cereal and a pillow. Except Lila doesn't get cereal, and if she has a pillow, it's not because WE gave it to her.