First things first: this is not my dog. I’m saving him for something special. Perhaps I might post some things about him in December for the holidays.
This dog’s name is puggy. I use the term ‘dog’ loosely, as he hardly qualifies as a dog. Puggy is a warm loaf of bread resting on four, thin posts that have suffered a few too many years of termites. He acts like a chronic drunkard; he can’t walk in a straight line and he can hardly even stand up. He just sort of sways in a circular motion in a futile attempt to keep himself upright.
Puggy is an ancient artifact, heralding from all the way back in 2004. He was a rescue dog spared from an inevitable demise by a friendly family. They have fed him, cared for him, and loved him for all of his life. Despite all of his many flaws, his family still loves him. In fact, it is his flaws that make him special. They are always there for him, standing by his wobbly side until the end of time. Puggy may be pestered by children, have difficulty standing, and snorts when he breathes, but he lives a life anyone would be glad to have.