I should start by introducing myself. I am a nine year-old Yellow Labrador Retriever, and I am a rescue. I'm not sure what that means, except that I have issues. I like poetry, lying by a warm fireplace in the winter, long walks on the beach in the summer, candlelit dinners, and rolling in smelly stuff all year 'round.
I have no short-term memory. As soon as we get back to the house from a walk (or as the two-leggers call it, a "W-A-L-K") I am ready for another one, having forgotten we just had one. This comes to my attention when I see the two-legger putting the leash away; leashes make me think of walks. I like walks. Can we go for a walk? I have no short-term memory.
My two-legger is a good pet. Actually I have two of them, one is nearly hairless, the other is pretty and smells nicer. For some reason, they came with a cat. That would be Matisse and he being a cat with a French name, I give him a wide berth. Plus he has fish breath and nasty little claws. I feel sorry for him, he was born like that.
I like to walk in Mystic, especially in the early morning, although I am banned from the Green Marble because I am known to loudly bark to make the hairless one aware of the squirrels that often frequent the alleyway. Apparently other two-leggers who are kenneled in the area like to nap in the morning. I nap also, but not when squirrels are running around. Or cats. Or dogs. A nap sounds good right now. I'll be back.
