I’ve been loyal. I really, really have. I was a good pup, lean and strong. I fetched papers, brought slippers, and hardly ever ripped up the curtains. I only pooed on the kitchen floor the once, and the smell was so bad I learned all on my own never to poo in the house.
So, as I got older, I was loved. I was fed pork rind, bacon, lasagne, steak, bread, cake, pie, all that wonderful, wonderful stuff.
And here, in my salad days, a time when I just want to lay back, relax and think about my conquests.
A crazy bloke in a red leotard comes and bums me.
It’s just not sportsmanlike.
