Hodor. Hodor Hodor. HODOR. HODOR HODOR HODOR HODOR!
…and that’s it. At least normal dogs go “woof” and “bark”, and now there are talking dogs. C’mon, Hodor, get your act together.
Blaze can say “No,” Hodor. You just agreed to carry Bran around. Like a chump.
Maybe if you learned how to express yourself, you could stand up for yourself, instead of getting walked all over by a kid who can’t even walk. When Blaze’s owners tried to take him to the kennel, he made his opinion very clearly known and, we can only assume, never had to go.
Oliver tells the people who have fed him, clothed him, and housed him his whole life that he loves them.
And Hodor tells the people who have cared for Hodor for Hodor’s entire existence that Hodor has a name. It’s not even the right name, Hodor! Your name is Walder!
There’s gratitude, then there’s not bothering to even learn your own name before you scream it at people.
For that matter, so does this little Frenchie.
I mean for the Red God’s sake, Hodor- omygod did you hear that little thing squeak?!
Mishka barks, howls, and genuinely inquires as to how you’re doing today.
Mishka has straight up conversations with her owners, because she wants them to know that she cares. Hodor, when was the last time you even asked if a wild woman and two preteen boys wanted to see you naked before you threw your big northern donger out there?
It’s called being considerate. SEVEN HELLS, HODOR.
Buster knows what he likes and tells you so you don’t have to guess what he wants for his birthday.
Buster lays it out: he likes Michael Jackson and hamburgers and doesn’t care who knows it. When we asked you what you wanted for your birthday, Hodor, you just told us your name. Cool, I guess. Is “Hodor” where you’re registered, or what?
Haha, just kidding! You’re obviously not getting married.
Even this poor talking dog (with the world’s cruelest owner) is better at talking than you, Hodor.
“But guys,” you might say, if you could say anything besides the name you incorrectly think is yours, “that’s just a voice over! Someone did that with editing, after they shot the footage!”
You know what? You’re right. This wasn’t really the dog talking, because dogs can’t really talk. This was a human projecting a personality onto him, in an edit bay, after they had already captured the footage.
If only there were a way for you to hire someone to dub in words for you, so you did sound more conversationally capable than a common household pet. Like, for instance, if someone were to make a wildly popular television show about your life and the people around you. They could even hire a talented actor with a far greater vocabulary and emotional range than you to play you!
I don’t know where’d you pitch a crazy idea like that, though. Maybe Showtime?