Walkies suck

Well, what a day, where to start? Many's the time I've squatted in the back yard, squeezing a curly poo out, and wondered "what the hell is on the other side of that gate?" Well today I found out, and to tell you the truth it's not nearly as exciting as I thought it would be. For one thing, it's very smelly, and not in a good way. The neighbourhood cats seem to think the passage down the side of my house is their own personal lavatory, that has GOT to change. And what the hell are those big, noisy, smelly, metal boxes full of people that race around out there? Bloody dangerous if you ask me. And another thing, I'm quite capable of deciding where I want to walk and at what speed, so what's the big idea of the long man tying a rope to my collar and dragging me everywhere?
Finally we got back home, just in time for the long man to change into another shirt and bugger off out again to something called the "mans hit 'im arch". Goodness knows what that's all about, but he came home several hours later moaning about the "same old city, another bloody draw". I think there was something wrong with him because he was staggering all over and stinking of polo mints.

The clippy cloppy woman also went out, with the little people in tow, giving me a nice break. I note with interest that the little people don't have ropes around THEIR necks when they leave the house, and they're much more unruly than I am, so what's the story with that? I'm beginning to feel like a second class citizen in this dump. If anyone from the dogs trust happens to be reading this, your help would be greatly appreciated.

When the clippy cloppy woman and the little people returned they brought another little person with them. I tried to make him feel as welcome as I could, showered him with slobbery, nippy, jumpy attention but he was a little shy and hid behind the chair making "eeek eeek" noises until the clippy cloppy woman slung me out. See what I mean, bloody favouritism at best, some might call it rascism!