I was walking my dog, but the leash slipped

I was walking my dog, but the leash slipped out of my hands, and he ran off. When I found him, all I could do was stare in awe. Spot was sitting next to a person. A dead person.

The dead man was covered in blood as well as spot. Bite marks covered the body of the man. His face seemed all too familiar this man, was in fact me. I didn't understand why would

I die apparently at the hands or paws, of my best friend? Was this a hitherero unknown to me twin? Was it my evil twin who died fighting with Spot? Thena live version of Spot trott

ed up to the statue of Trotsky in my backyard and peed on his revolutionary bronze leg. The urine deflected onto the corpse of my dead evil twin, resurrecting him. Spot barked at

him happily, oblivous of the horror he brought upon us. My undead evil twin emitted a piercing growl and decapitated the Trosky statue, flinging its head in my direction. The dog

were soaked in hatred. Not every canine animals know the thrill of howling as much as these neighbor dogs. I turned my head for a different perspective. It had to be her, had to

odles, and poodles, and more noodles than I could count. Oodles of them! She was definitely the one. "But to cross this suburban expanse of snarling lap dogs may prove to be

The most challenging part of the trip. Bring plenty of dog treats.they will sniff your bags!' Indeed, they all wanted to adopt me, but I could take only one home with me. A poodle

who was much too polite to sniff my bags, since I had none to sniff. (War wound, long story.) He sniffed everybody else's bags, though. I didn't mind, but they sure did.