The Horse

I saw a horse yesterday. Dad and me were walking in the park when we came to the horse and his mom. The horse’s mom said he was a German Rottweiler. I’d never heard of that kind of horse. Dad told me he was a dog, but I know better. There is no way a Chihuahua and a German Rottweiler are the same kind of animal.

A Chihuahua is a rodent, a German Rottweiler is a horse, and I am a dog.

Update on the harness: Dad spent some time sewing the handle back together. The first time we were out with the new handle, I saw a cat and ran full speed after it. I stopped suddenly after about a foot, when I reached the end of my leash. I wonder if Dad’s harness would work on the horse.

To my dog friends (humans stop reading now): This thing could be trouble. Dad has complete control over me when we walk now. I used to be able to pull him wherever I wanted to go. Now he tells me where to go. Also, he likes to pick up my poop. How gross is that? I used to pull him away from it, but now he can pick it up no matter what I want. GROSS!!!

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