Introducing Pads, a dog of good repute and brains.
I've done it, I've worked it out, I am officially a clever bastard among dogs. The benefit of having small paws is that I can not only open the man's electronic typing computer machine, but I can hit a single letter on the keyboard without simultaneously pressing 6 other letters at the same time. This allows me to form proper words in English and present them before you in this blog. Not something big dogs can do. Big dogs are clumsy oafs. If a big dog tried to write a blog, here is what it'd say:
njcwegiubf ecnlhck nddwxn ckljdjwd wdhnjwqhnwdq wsjmdwxjkdwqdw wskjmwhnewqgbdec hfchfhbjcf lkfcmfcjk lkdkj cdkjdkjd.
Yes. Pointless. Big dogs need to stick to lolloping about, knocking things over and not trying to express themselves in a refined, articulate and sophisticated manner like yours truly.
Yours truly, by the way, is 'Pads'. Short for Paddington. An inexplicably English name for a Greek dog. That's right, I was born and raised as a pup in Cyprus. I say 'raised.' In fact, I was abandoned by some absolute shithead and left to fend for myself on the streets, before being rescued and adopted by an English family (ironically one with Cypriot heritage). The humans who rescued me from my life as a street urchin - dodging between Mercedes cars on the roads, searching for scraps of 'souvlaki' behind restaurants, eavesdropping on mens' conversations about business and pool and gambling - named me Paddington for some reason. Possibly because it is more original than George, Andy, Nick or Michael. Possibly because they hoped an English family would adopt me, as no one in Cyprus was adopting dogs, they were just kicking them out on the streets or worse (Actually not 'worse', you're safe eating a doner kebab. Cypriots aren't like Koreans; when Cypriots say their food is 'the dog's bollocks' they just mean it tastes amazing.)
Anyway, Cypriots are lovely people, but they prefer their own kids to dogs and so I dodged a bullet and ended up with a family in St Albans, Hertfordshire, England, who treat me like one of their own kids, a baby in fact, and so I HAVE IT MADE.
You English people might look at me (for a 'nude' photo click the menu icon at the top of the page) and wonder if I am some kind of spaniel. A sleek and sexy jet black spaniel at that. But I'm not. I am a 'kokoni'. That's probably not something you've heard before and you might imagine it was the title of a 1982 album by a New Romantic pop group. Japan or Visage or someone like that. Kikonis all have two things in common. One, we are EXTREMELY friendly and loving dogs, the hippies of the dog world, but without the drugs and fondness for Jefferson Airplane. Two, we like to lie on our backs and twist our spine into what looks like a physically impossible S-shape. We'd make great cortortionists, you know those people who can wrap their legs behind their necks and have their face only inches from their arsehole. This is a useful skill for dogs for obvious reasons, but quite unsettling to see a human do it. This slinkiness has prompted people to wonder if we have evolved from snakes or cats, but snakes and cats are evil and we are too nice to share any DNA with those bastards of the natural world.
Really, I say I'm nice, but I fucking hate cats.
I hate squirrels as well and want to kill them all. One thing I love about my walks is chasing squirrels. Strangely, on today's walk, there were NO squirrels. It's like a meteor hit the earth overnight and wiped out all the squirrels in the same way that it did the dinosaurs. I don't get it.
Anyway, I understand that human attention spans are not very long and you get bored after 5 minutes reading (fair enough, as that feels like 35 minutes to us dogs), so I'll pause here... PAWS HERE!!! Bahahahahahaha. Get it? Next time I'll tell you more about my family and my walks and my other favourite things, like having a poo and barking at the postman.
njcwegiubf ecnlhck nddwxn ckljdjwd wdhnjwqhnwdq wsjmdwxjkdwqdw wskjmwhnewqgbdec hfchfhbjcf lkfcmfcjk lkdkj cdkjdkjd.
Yes. Pointless. Big dogs need to stick to lolloping about, knocking things over and not trying to express themselves in a refined, articulate and sophisticated manner like yours truly.
Yours truly, by the way, is 'Pads'. Short for Paddington. An inexplicably English name for a Greek dog. That's right, I was born and raised as a pup in Cyprus. I say 'raised.' In fact, I was abandoned by some absolute shithead and left to fend for myself on the streets, before being rescued and adopted by an English family (ironically one with Cypriot heritage). The humans who rescued me from my life as a street urchin - dodging between Mercedes cars on the roads, searching for scraps of 'souvlaki' behind restaurants, eavesdropping on mens' conversations about business and pool and gambling - named me Paddington for some reason. Possibly because it is more original than George, Andy, Nick or Michael. Possibly because they hoped an English family would adopt me, as no one in Cyprus was adopting dogs, they were just kicking them out on the streets or worse (Actually not 'worse', you're safe eating a doner kebab. Cypriots aren't like Koreans; when Cypriots say their food is 'the dog's bollocks' they just mean it tastes amazing.)
Anyway, Cypriots are lovely people, but they prefer their own kids to dogs and so I dodged a bullet and ended up with a family in St Albans, Hertfordshire, England, who treat me like one of their own kids, a baby in fact, and so I HAVE IT MADE.
You English people might look at me (for a 'nude' photo click the menu icon at the top of the page) and wonder if I am some kind of spaniel. A sleek and sexy jet black spaniel at that. But I'm not. I am a 'kokoni'. That's probably not something you've heard before and you might imagine it was the title of a 1982 album by a New Romantic pop group. Japan or Visage or someone like that. Kikonis all have two things in common. One, we are EXTREMELY friendly and loving dogs, the hippies of the dog world, but without the drugs and fondness for Jefferson Airplane. Two, we like to lie on our backs and twist our spine into what looks like a physically impossible S-shape. We'd make great cortortionists, you know those people who can wrap their legs behind their necks and have their face only inches from their arsehole. This is a useful skill for dogs for obvious reasons, but quite unsettling to see a human do it. This slinkiness has prompted people to wonder if we have evolved from snakes or cats, but snakes and cats are evil and we are too nice to share any DNA with those bastards of the natural world.
Really, I say I'm nice, but I fucking hate cats.
I hate squirrels as well and want to kill them all. One thing I love about my walks is chasing squirrels. Strangely, on today's walk, there were NO squirrels. It's like a meteor hit the earth overnight and wiped out all the squirrels in the same way that it did the dinosaurs. I don't get it.
Anyway, I understand that human attention spans are not very long and you get bored after 5 minutes reading (fair enough, as that feels like 35 minutes to us dogs), so I'll pause here... PAWS HERE!!! Bahahahahahaha. Get it? Next time I'll tell you more about my family and my walks and my other favourite things, like having a poo and barking at the postman.
Comments
Post a Comment