My Random dog...

I can’t say that I’m a fan of dogs, I’m more of a cat person, and dogs on the beach aren’t my favourite things. I hate the way they run around yapping at seagulls, charging into the sea, shaking the wetness off of them and all over you, running up to each other and sniffing or fighting. No, I’m no fan of dogs.

My type of dog wouldn’t do any of those things. My type of dog wouldn’t do much really – apart from keep me safe.

So here’s my type of dog, I call him Random, I think you can probably guess why. Ugly old thing isn’t he.

As I mentioned he doesn’t do much, just stands guard for me, wards off intruders. He fixes them with his stony glare and keeps the bad at bay. He’s a good solid chap, well balanced, rock solid, not about to lose his marbles running around in circles barking at the wind.

Random’s not a stroking dog, Random doesn’t like being patted – and he won’t run for a stick, or beg, or play dead. Random is his own dog. He’ll barely even wag his tail to order, not like some.
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I like Random. Despite his flintiness there’s something about him, something comforting. Good dog Random, good dog.

I wonder which is worse, his bark or his bite?