Over the years, things have gotten a bit tense between us. The last time we barked, he told me he'd chew my face off. I cautiously approached his yard, ears pricked. As I drew closer, I heard the telltale buzz saw snoring of a dog sleeping inside the house. I trotted over to the garden, tail waving happily. The begonias looked especially lovely, so I chose to toilet there.
Usually, I delivered my package quickly and quietly. However, my gift to the garden felt like sandpaper on account of the broom I had eaten. I thought for certain I'd get a splinter where nobody should ever have one. In pain, I howled and woke Rover from his nap. His head poked out of his doggy door, and he surveyed his domain. He didn't see me at first because the begonias offered good cover. Then our eyes locked. "You!" He growled. "I'm going to kill you!" Don't you hate death threats while going to the toilet? Me too. "Oh, look at that. Reduced to using a doggy door," I barked, giving one last push. "Hey, Rover, come out and take a look at this one. I've been saving it for three days and it's enormous." Snarling, he dashed forward and tripped. Momentum carried him across the porch and head first into the railing. He sat up and discovered that his head was trapped between two spindles. As he struggled to jerk free, I padded across the yard onto the porch steps and sat down a few paws away. The truth is, I’m not motivated solely by revenge. I do things all in good fun. And by that, I mean my fun. By the way Rover was snarling, I don't think he was having a good time at all. "I'm going to chew you to pieces," he growled. I yawned. "So you keep saying. I'd love to stay and keep you company until help arrives, but I've got a lot to do to today and as the human's say, the early bird gets the worm."
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