My name is Bozo and I am a dog. Not an ordinary dog; I am a pedigree dog.
A pug, actually. Some people think pugs are amusing, but I cannot see why.
True, we are small, and have rather flat faces but that is what makes
us special; pedigrees, in fact. But a flat face and snubby nose do make one snuffle.
And this snuffling is worse when one is walking. My Mistress, being a very considerate
person, understands this so does not walk me too quickly. But, even so, one does tend to hear me before one sees me, if you see what I mean. Sadly, not everyone
is as considerate nor as kind as my Mistress.

Only this morning my Mistress and I were walking along the High Street
quite happily, when a voice called out; "Oi, snotty nose!" It was some awful little boy.
"Ignore him, Bozo," said my Mistress.
I did; I ignored him utterly, but it still hurt, inside. Why are little boys so spiteful?

Perhaps you think that being small and snuffly must make one unhappy?
If you do, then my answer is; Not one bit. I'm happy almost all of the time. I have
 a kind Mistress; a big garden to stroll in; and the most wonderfully comfortable basket a pedigree pug could wish for.
 
In fact, I am happiest most of all when I am tucked up in my basket with a ChoppaChew. ChoppaChews are great and I chew them whenever I can. I cannot understand why my Mistress does not chew them too; they keep ones' teeth cleaner
than any toothbrush and they make ones' jaws strong into the bargain.
When I have finished with a ChoppaChew I feel as if I could chew through
a table-leg or even chew my way through the front door. But I do not,
of course, because I know that it would upset my Mistress. I would not upset
her for the world because she is so kind to me. So I do what I can to repay her.

One way I repay my Mistress is to keep the garden clear of cats. Just what
are cats for? I have often asked myself that, but never found an answer.
What I do know is, there are far too many around here, and they cause untold
damage in our garden. They scrape holes everywhere, in the middle of flowerbeds,
everywhere. So, I am on constant guard. Most of them scoot as soon as they
hear me coming. But Ginger is another matter.  I am sure he is not a bit afraid of me; but he should be! I will ChoppaChew him to pieces if I ever catch him.
 Has he got some cheek! He sits grinning in the middle of the lawn and gets me
 trotting full tilt before hopping, at the very last moment...Hold on..., there he is
 again! Can't stop, I'm off!