COSMIC!!! BLORBO BINGO- the thing dog 💕 -🍮

Dog-Thing aka MY BABY🐺🐾🦴👾

The Free Space is for all the delicious dog treats out there, they deserve them^^

(I love them but realistically I would have to end up plotting their demise and the only reason the *puts them in the wood chipper*-box isn't filled in, is because I think it would just make matters worse with me now having to deal with a billion tinny lil Things, so I opted for filling in the "plotting thier demise"-box. Pretty privilege extends to all of Dog-Thing's many forms of course. They're complex and well-written in Peter Watts retelling of the film but from Thing's pov called The Things)

I'm gonna try and restrict my love for Thing to just Dog-Thing in particular:

Love is stored in Dog-Thing's different ever changing designs, with multiple heads, deformed limbs, crab legs, muscular arms and tendrils! I just love the first on-screen transformation. The way Dog-Thing's head splits open and the skull falls off and its tongue starts dancing in the air *muah!* I love you seamless mixture of practical effects and puppetry and stop-motion and arghhhhh...

Speaking of many forms, I love that we never get to see Dog-Thing/Thing-in-general's original form! It's scarier that you don't know! It let's your mind conjure all sorts of fucked up images that are way scarier than anything they could have designed it's the best and I applaud the films restraint in that way!

I love that Dog-Thing spend 1h-1:30h alone with Clark and he didn't get assimilated, what's that about?!?!!? What does it mean and what does it say about Dog-Thing? I'm not sure you could read a lot into it I feel, but I do know one thing, and that is that Clark is the best dog handler there is!

I LOVE how Dog-Thing subverts the famous "dogs can sense evil" trope in horror movies! If this was any other film, you would have all the humans be unsuspecting while the huskies would be freaking out about Dog-Thing the second they set eyes on it BUT NO! When Dog-Thing enters the kennel all the other dogs are chill. Only when Dog-Thing starts changing and lifting its perfect disguise do they freak out. I love it I love it it's such a good way to show how perfect the imitation really is early on in the film without having to state it. All the dogs in the kennel are chilling and barely react to Dog-Thing's arrival, I love this detail so much:

(they're all just laying around!)

Speaking of kennel, I love seeing blind reactions to The Thing. And one of my favourite parts is watch people's shifting opinion on Dog-Thing. Movie begins with some lads on a helicopter shooting at a dog and almost always, everyone watching is pissed off they're shooting at it and they're yelling at the screen for the guy to stop! Then enter Jed the Wolf-Dog and his magnificent performance: the calculating stare, the composed demeanor, the calm and collected steps, and some people start thinking something's weird about the dog but most are still very loving towards Dog-Thing. Then comes kennel scene, where all the "asshole stop shooting at the dog" shouting suddenly turns into complete shock and horror, going "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD SHOOT IT FUCKING SHOOT IT RIGHT NOW" I love it. And you just know that this was the moment when, if you were a parent in the summer of '82 and were indecisive about which alien movie you wanted to take your kids to watch, this scene is where your mind is made up. I'm just imagining all the parents rushing out the doors to take their kids to watch E.T. during dog kennel scene lmao

LOOK AT JED/DOG-THING'S ACTING I LOVE THEM:

I love this quick moment. The lads are all watching the Thing-"corpse" Copper and MacReady brought from the Norwegian cam, and the camera suddenly cuts to Dog-Thing watching its own autopsy!!!!!!!!!!!! I WONDER ABOUT WHAT DOG-THING'S THINKING ABOUT SEEING ITS OWN CHARRED BODY SO BAAAAAAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JED YOU WERE SUCH A GOOD ACTOR , THIS STILL PIC DOES NOT DO YOU JUSTICE BUT HERE:

A lil treat from Peter Watts' The Things , this one is from the scene above, I love the ending where Thing is terrified and disgusted by the human brain calling it a tumorous lump, it's great:

Autopsy. MacReady and Copper had found part of me at the Norwegian camp: a rearguard offshoot, burned in the wake of my escape. They’d brought it back—charred, twisted, frozen in mid-transformation—and did not seem to know what it was. I was being Palmer then, and Norris, and dog. I gathered around with the other biomass and watched as Copper cut me open and pulled out my insides. I watched as he dislodged something from behind my eyes: an organ of some kind. It was malformed and incomplete, but its essentials were clear enough. It looked like a great wrinkled tumor, like cellular competition gone wild—as though the very processes that defined life had somehow turned against it instead. It was obscenely vascularised; it must have consumed oxygen and nutrients far out of proportion to its mass. I could not see how anything like that could even exist, how it could have reached that size without being outcompeted by more efficient morphologies. Nor could I imagine what it did. But then I began to look with new eyes at these offshoots, these biped shapes my own cells had so scrupulously and unthinkingly copied when they reshaped me for this world. Unused to inventory—why catalog body parts that only turn into other things at the slightest provocation?—I really saw, for the first time, that swollen structure atop each body. So much larger than it should be: a bony hemisphere into which a million ganglionic interfaces could fit with room to spare. Every offshoot had one. Each piece of biomass carried one of these huge twisted clots of tissue. I realized something else, too: the eyes, the ears of my dead skin had fed into this thing before Copper pulled it free. A massive bundle of fibers ran along the skin’s longitudinal axis, right up the middle of the endoskeleton, directly into the dark sticky cavity where the growth had rested. That misshapen structure had been wired into the whole skin, like some kind of somatocognitive interface but vastly more massive. It was almost as if . . . No. That was how it worked. That was how these empty skins moved of their own volition, why I’d found no other network to integrate. There it was: not distributed throughout the body but balled up into itself, dark and dense and encysted. I had found the ghost in these machines. I felt sick. I shared my flesh with thinking cancer.

and one more treat where Thing describes its time as a doggo:

I left that place in ruins. It was on the other side of the mountains—the Norwegian camp, it is called here—and I could never have crossed that distance in a biped skin. Fortunately there was another shape to choose from, smaller than the biped but better adapted to the local climate. I hid within it while the rest of me fought off the attack. I fled into the night on four legs, and let the rising flames cover my escape. I did not stop running until I arrived here. I walked among these new offshoots wearing the skin of a quadruped; and because they had not seen me take any other shape, they did not attack.

Dog-Thing and Thing is just an awesome concept with an even more incredible execution what's not to love!!!!!