Long Dog here and I’m back to tell you more about the members of the Doggie Gang. Prissy, the Sealyham Terrier, was the one who advised me to do belly exercises to help me swim. She might look stuck up, with her nose held high, but that’s to counter all that hair that falls over her eyes; she’s really a nice lady dog, the only one in our gang. Prissy’s short legs are sturdy like her body; her ancestors quarried foxes and badgers and such for British royalty. She doesn’t consider that her papered pedigree makes her better than the rest of us. Prissy is always thoughtful, her advice grounding us when we get too excited. She can bark up a storm like the time we thwarted a jewel heist. Otherwise her giggle-bark pretty much shows her good nature.
Pedro the Chihuahua has short legs too, but he’s a quick little guy who still has a Mexican accent and calls me amigo all the time. Pedro’s big ears hear great, though not as good as mine once I gained my super ears. Pedro had to help me out when I had my run-in with bees that made my nose swell so much I could hardly see around it. I couldn’t smell a thing so Pedro had to handle the nose jobs. It was him that tracked a Greyhound far enough that I could take over when I heard the dognapped victims barking. Pedro raced for help, taking the lady Greyhound’s special collar along to prompt our rescue—didn’t I tell you he was one smart Chihuahua! The ship had set sail so I and the freed dogs had to make a swim for our lives.
I’ll tell you about Rupertus Reinfeld next time. Arf
