Wall dog

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No, no, that’s my brother.  I never pose.

Don’t have the patience, I guess.  You think there’s a family resemblance?  Maybe, I don’t see it myself. Of course, we’re a little vague on the subject of paternity.  Not like our gringo friends who come down with their masters or mistresses.  I wonder who has the better life.  They have a full bowl of something from a bag each day and attention from their owners.  Not that I’d want the attention some of the males get from a sort of dog doctor they go to.  Even the senioritas  I hear, beautiful some of those poodles, but well. . . no pungent spark if you get my meaning.   Ah, San Miguel  is full of wonderful smells which can make for a long walk around the town for some dogs on a leash.  I’m proud to say I’ve never been tied up.  I have hard times in winter when the restaurants are quiet and it is cold but I’m a humble fellow and I curl up with my amigos ( or amigas!  Carramba!) and wait out the short winter.  Fleas?  They are a bother but a good scratch and a dust bath does wonders.  Even my famous brother who has grown fat on the wall sometimes creeps down and barks at night to wake the gringos. . . Just for the hell of it.  Viva free doggies!

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