Thin Rottweiler

I'm off the leash at the park on the lark. Out with my master and wow, I smell this bitch about two hundred yards away and I am like - she is going to get it.    A sweet, sweet Rottweiler. Thin like me but a heavy smell, beautiful pelt, and those hind quarters. Oh, mama.    So I'm over and next to her, and her smell is a thousand time more desirable. And do you believe this? She too smells the impetus of our destiny.    So we're off, out and away. Away from the park, the leaders, the hard surfaces and all that damnable ugliness. We end up in this place where there are other animals and we have each other. Pedigree, taught, we falling into place.    Afterwards we're lying together all coiling steam and pants. The next day I am there again, the same one and she is there.    I nuzzle up to her smell saying, “I love you my little under-fed Rottweiler bitch. Holder of my seed. Holder of my line.”    Lying there big-eyed and wet she says to me, “oh my poor giver, you are slow sighted, but I love you for it, I love you, and will love our pups.”    On she twoddles until, “I'm not a Rottweiler. You're so slow slighted. I'm fat Doberman. Not thin Rottweiler. I saw you that you thin and took pity.”    I catch it, as soon said, the love turned to hate. Pedigree betrayed and so the warmth knotted hard and went cold. I had her. Her neck limp in my jaw. I left her dead in this place she never knew. I found my way back to my master and from that day I take sight as smell, as lessons are learnt.

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