Friday, 13 July 2012

... I officially have no respect for pure bred

Let me introduce you to my dog, Hanna. She is named after a Thriller, Called Hanna, which is about a genetically engineered girl who is basically a born assassin. My dog is a Bull Mastiff, who was very expensive because she is pure bred Bull Mastiff. THAT DIDN'T CHANGE HER AT ALL. 
Being pure bred clearly has no meaning, whatsoever. Let me explain.
When I take her for a walk, she is the most adorably stupid being EVER. She will walk, walk, walk, and then BAM, she isn't walking anymore. She is flopped onto the ground. looking at you with a tilted head. This may seem harsh, but there's more.
When you finally coax her to start walking again, you have promised yourself to never take this dog walking again, not that statement holds any water. Anyway, you've gotten a good pace now and everything looks fine. The dog seems happy, not tired at all. Next moment, you hear a crunch. You slowly turn around...
The dog has flopped onto a prickly bush and is smiling at you, with a doofus grin on it's face. No way, you think to yourself. I'm turning right here and going home. As you start walking home, Hanna starts howling. A mournful, sorrowful, howl. What can you do? You sigh and start calling the dog.

How Gorgeously Confused!

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