Uggie is an awesome dog. Sure, he’s responsible for that shallow film critic handie The Artist winning the Oscars, but he’s still an awesome dog. That said, the fuck you need an Uggie biography “translated” from “dog-speak”? That’s a Tumblr joke, not a book deal, only it is.

I know. Sharik. Paw Paw. This isn’t new. This one’s like a superflous ghostwritten celebrity memoir. Of a dog. Sigh. Weird.

We’re entering unsettling territory here. Sure, Twitter “egos” like Marina Abramović’s Chair and Damien Hirst’s Shark are amusing and harmless, albeit, surreal. And there’s nothing that morally apprehensible about Uggie’s biography and its common form of literary identity theft. Maybe I’m just sensitive because I only now read about Avery the incurably sick baby “blogging” her “Bucket List,” a bucket list that includes “Kiss from Ryan Gosling for me & mommy.” Or is it weird?