I’d rather be a dog


In your face! Ouch.

That’s my experience everyday. Bros charges at me like the idiot he is, barking out demands while hurling around some old wellington boot. Come play with me, he says.

Play? I tell you what it is to play and I’ll tell you what “in your face” is really all about. To play is to simulate, to be as observant as hawk-eye who hovers over these woods, as cunning as my old foxy enemy and as sharp as the claws I mark out my patch of earth with. And “in your face”? Well, that can only mean one thing – attitude.

And the plaything, the object to be observed and toyed with? Homo sapiens – saps.

It’s a dog’s life? You bet. And I’d rather be a dog than a sap.

From time to time bros and me write this dlog. We describe our experiences, share our observations and always conclude with the certainty that we’d rather be dogs than … Well, you’ve got the message.


Isn’t she a pain? So bloody up her own hairy rear. Ok, so we ran away to the woods to prove that we are dogs and can live independent of our two legged friends. Ye. Ye. But, I tell you, with a bit less of her “attitude”, I could still be sitting in front of a warm fire every night having my tum tickled. I could have endless fun re-positioning soft furnishings. I could have meals served in dishes. I could …..

Oh, well, I go along with this dlog thing just to humour her. I don’t know. Maybe it will humour you too. Meanwhile, heh, I’ve got this old wellington boot. Wanna run after me and try to get it. Come on ……..



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