The tale of the wag

We are your underbelly my friends, not to be confused with the fantastic sensation when you fuss my underbelly no, no, no. I’m talking about the underlying fabric of your society. We guard your houses, we sniff out drugs, we rid the world of evil cats and most importantly we dispose of dropped edibles. Not forgetting we provide amusement when swooshing the dinner bowl round the floor on the occasion when we’re really eager to munch.

We are dogs my friend, man’s best friend! And silly tarts with handbags who need a further fashion accessory. Every once and a while one wily, sexy, witty and down right cool dude of a dog is chosen to lead the voice of our doggy generation. I am that Dog! I was named Paul and Paul is my name. It was a difficult selection process but I made it, and I’m here to let you into the doggy secrets and the views of the voice of a generation, me, Paul the Dog.

Woof

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5 responses to “The tale of the wag

  1. Gracie, my 102 pound Irish Wolfhound look-alike and I will look forward to hearing Paul’s bits of wisdom.

  2. My previous black labrador was like a Hoover- anything dropped caused scrambling to identify if it was edible. Thanks for the post Paul!

  3. I have laughed out loud! Love it!

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