A Short Tale of a Dog

I am a dog. And may I point out that I do not say that “I’m a dog” in any sort of figurative, and certainly not in any pejorative sense. I am an actual dog. That’s right, a dog. I am the proud posssessor of four legs, two long, floppy ears, a tail, and a friendly canine disposition that makes me man’s best friend – and woman’s best friend too, I may add.

I live at 34 Elm Street. I think we’re in the city of St. Louis, but I’m not 100% sure about that. I live with a family of four humans. They take good care of me. I eat well. Mostly chicken bits and that dry kibble stuff, which isn’t bad once you get used to it. Sometimes I get a bone!

I sleep a lot. Actually, most of my time is spent sleeping, which I have to say is quite nice. I have a decent-sized back yard. I get taken for walks every day, sometimes twice a day, which I particularly enjoy.

I get my end in every now and then depending on the season, if you know what I mean. And generally I socialize, I fraternize, quite a bit. I have several good friends here on Elm Street, and there are others I meet from time to time at the park. All in all, it’s quite a fine life this is. No complaints from this dog!

As for the promised story, the short tale, maybe I’ll work on it when I wake up from my nap. After all, I’m a dog.

Before I go, let me ask you this: Why does a dog turn itself around three times before it lays down?

That’s right! Because one good turn deserves another!

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