My Dog, The Shit

Some of you will have heard me talk of my dog. You will have heard me describe him as anything from a sarcastic, grizzled ol’ nineteeth-century prospector to an embittered, sexually confused, drunken, middle-aged cougar.

I would like, if I may, to offer you an image of my darling dog: love of my life, and belligerent, contemptuous little shit. If you’ve had the privilege of getting to know this miraculously long-lived creature, you can vouch that the picture I shall paint is uncannily accurate.