Nate "Hey, Bulldog" Fisher is inside some sort of a kennel, the outside window of which reads, "Camp for Dogs." Oh, God. Camp for dogs. Is their corporate tagline "Anthropomorphizing Your Pet Since 1999, You Deluded, Childless Parent"? I mean, I'm totally not against having pets and I have a potted plant I feel so parentally toward that I'm actually planning to have it Bar Mitzvahed, so I'm not completely heartless. But "Camp for Dogs"? Until something shows me a dog that has the opposable thumb agility to make a lanyard bracelet, I'm not paying to send it to camp. Because if you're only covered in fur...well, worst panty raid ever. Oh, never mind, I'm sure the tagline is actually "We'll help your dog ruff it!" Shut up, "Camp for Dogs."
Inside, we find Nate sitting on the ground tending to dogs and speaking to them in cute, dog-like ways, all, "Lisa? Lisa? Are you Lisa? Lisa, which do you like better, Kibbles or Bits?" "Look at Garbo," says the head counselor of Camp for Dogs, a tall woman who is not Kristen Johnston. "She usually hates men." And were I just a bit smarter, I'm sure that dog would be starring in a Greta Garbo movie with a decidedly dog-punned theme, but even after casting a wide net around the internet, there is not a single Garbo title I can even pretend to have seen. Mata Hairy? Anna Grrrrrr-enina? It's almost impossible.
Head Counselor Not Johnston sits down and regards a clipboard, asking Nate, "Food co-op, funeral home. Nothing with animals at all?" He tells her that he has not worked with animals, noting in his defense, "But they're all related in a way, y'know?" Hilariously, she doesn't know, so he clarifies, "A dead dog is my wife. What are you, some kind of effing monster?" Okay, not really. He actually says, "People in grief, y'know, are a lot like dogs in that you have to be with them in a totally instinctive way." Yeah, tell that to my fern when I keep it home on Friday night to memorize the rest of its Haftorah Portion. Sniff. A shrub no more.
Nate continues on that he doesn't have a dog now because the one he had when he was young was killed and his mom was really sad. Head Counselor Not Johnston tells him that she's never hired anyone with no dog experience before on account of this not being "Camp for Newts," and Nate is about to launch into full-scale reasoning that he's qualified for the job because he faithfully reads Marmaduke in the funnies every damn Sunday. But instead he goes for that old TV compromise, "Why don't you just give me a trial run? What do you say?" And, just like how kids in movies refer to adult males as, "Hey, mister," the "take a chance on an unknown kid" defense scores where "Those without dog or dog-related experience need not apply" would more realistically suit the situation. Head Counselor Not Johnston goes on to tell Nate that the job doesn't pay much, and he responds that he doesn't need much because he still lives with his mama. "I just can't stand to be around people in pain anymore," he adds. Well, then get a job as a Good Humor man and try to avoid kids who are lactose-intolerant. What do you want me to tell you?