Jeremy is Samsquatch’s favorite delivery driver. Not because of reliable service or professional courtesy, but because Jeremy consistently arrives with treats. Over repeated deliveries, dog and driver have built a relationship based on the most important currency in canine commerce: deluxe Milk Bones and other premium snacks that make delivery days the highlight of Samsquatch’s week.
Today, Jeremy arrived with devastating news: no treats on board.
The scenario was tragic from Samsquatch’s perspective. His favorite human showed up right on schedule, but without the expected tribute. The betrayal was immediate and visceral. This was supposed to be treat time—the moment when the delivery truck pulls up and good things happen, when being a good dog who waits patiently for packages gets rewarded with delicious snacks.
Jeremy tried offering a hug to smooth things over. A consolation prize, emotional support in lieu of treats, the kind of gesture that works with humans but completely misses the point for food-motivated dogs. He probably bent down with open arms, genuinely sorry about the treat shortage, hoping Samsquatch would understand that sometimes deliveries don’t include snacks and a hug is the best available alternative.
Samsquatch wasn’t having it. The pup had sprinted out expecting deluxe Milk Bones—the good stuff, the treats that make all other treats seem inferior—and instead got offered emotional support. Pure canine betrayal. His disappointed face says everything about the magnitude of this letdown, the gap between expectation and reality, the fundamental injustice of favorite delivery drivers showing up empty-handed.
The photograph captures this moment of profound disappointment. Jeremy holds Samsquatch, who’s wearing a bright yellow-green vest, and the dog’s expression is magnificently unimpressed. Not angry, exactly. Not aggressive. Just deeply, visibly disappointed. The face of someone who expected deluxe Milk Bones and received hugs instead, who showed up for treats and got emotional support, whose entire day has been ruined by this no-snack catastrophe.
His disappointed face said it all—he was already drafting a formal complaint to the Treat Department, possibly HR. In Samsquatch’s mind, this was a serious breach of protocol. Jeremy has established expectations through consistent treat-giving. Arriving without treats isn’t just disappointing—it’s a violation of their unspoken contract. Dogs don’t understand supply chain issues or forgetfulness. They understand: this person brings treats. This person arrived. Where are the treats?
The formal complaint is probably detailed. Listing previous successful deliveries where treats were provided. Documenting the emotional harm caused by raised expectations that went unfulfilled. Demanding accountability from the Treat Department for this egregious oversight. Possibly recommending additional training for delivery drivers on the importance of maintaining consistent snack protocols.
But despite this no-snack catastrophe, nothing but love remains for their favorite driver. That’s the thing about dogs—they can be deeply disappointed and still love you completely. Samsquatch’s face shows betrayal, yes, but he’s still allowing Jeremy to hold him. Still present for the hug even though it’s inadequate compensation. Still recognizing that Jeremy is his favorite human even when that favorite human shows up empty-handed.
The relationship survives the treat shortage because it’s built on more than transactions. Yes, the treats matter enormously to a food-motivated dog. But there’s also genuine affection between Samsquatch and Jeremy—enough that even this devastating disappointment doesn’t end their connection. Just damages it temporarily, creates a moment of profound letdown that will be forgiven as soon as Jeremy arrives next time with double treats to make up for today’s failure.
Jeremy looks appropriately sheepish in the photograph, aware that his hug is not adequate compensation, that Samsquatch’s disappointment is justified, that he’s committed a serious error in delivery driver protocol. He’s probably already planning to bring extra treats next time, to restore his standing in Samsquatch’s eyes, to make sure this betrayal doesn’t become a pattern.
The humor in this story is obvious—a dog disappointed about missing treats is inherently funny, especially when that disappointment is so visibly displayed. But there’s also something touching about the relationship it reveals. Jeremy isn’t required to bring treats. It’s not part of his job description, doesn’t affect his pay or performance reviews. He does it because he’s built a relationship with Samsquatch, because making this dog happy has become part of what makes deliveries enjoyable for him.
And Samsquatch has learned to expect this kindness, has built his week around these treat-delivery moments, has promoted Jeremy to “favorite driver” status based on consistent snack provision. Their relationship is genuine, built through repeated positive interactions, meaningful enough that one missed treat day creates real disappointment rather than indifference.
The formal complaint to the Treat Department will probably be filed mentally, with detailed documentation of how expectations were raised and then devastatingly crushed. The case for better driver training will be made through disappointed looks and reluctant acceptance of inadequate hugs. The demand for accountability will be expressed through that magnificently unimpressed face that says: I expected better from you, favorite human.
But next delivery, when Jeremy pulls up with double treats to make amends, Samsquatch will sprint out with the same enthusiasm as always. Because dogs forgive easily when the people they love make efforts to correct their mistakes. Because favorite driver status, once earned, isn’t easily revoked even by no-snack catastrophes. Because despite the betrayal, despite the disappointing hug offered in place of deluxe Milk Bones, nothing but love remains.
Jeremy and Samsquatch’s relationship will survive this crisis. Probably emerge stronger, actually, once the makeup treats are delivered and trust is restored. The story will become part of their shared history—remember that day I forgot your treats and you looked so disappointed?—told with affection about a moment of letdown that emphasized how much their routine means to both of them.
For now, though, Samsquatch’s face says it all: pure canine betrayal, profound disappointment, and the beginning of a formal complaint that will be dropped the moment treats reappear. Despite this no-snack catastrophe, nothing but love remains for their favorite driver. Just love mixed with justified disappointment and a very good boy’s reasonable expectation that next time, Jeremy will remember what really matters.