Bowser sat beside him, loyal and true. Oh, he was ready, alright. When that avalanche hit, he would save Master. He would heroically drag him, half-frozen and covered in mud slime, to the chalet high in the Alps. It didn't matter that the Alps were clear across the Atlantic Ocean. Bowser didn't care. His instincts told him what was right. Drag Master, nurse him to robustness, feed them vodka in a casket around his neck. The Princess of Spring would reward him kindly someday in faraway Suisse.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Dog Daze
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