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West Highland T̶e̶r̶r̶i̶e̶r̶ Terror.


I’m not prepared to feed a dog with an expendable income, whatever the writing on his chest might say.



It takes the piss. Everything he’s wearing is an extravagance. He sits there in a bowtie, glasses and a natty pair of pink Converse - all of which are extraneous - and has the audacity to suggest I should cater for him. I'm sorry to be brutal, but that Westie's a cunt.  

If I were prepared to wine and dine him, I wouldn’t submit to his menu. He can make pictures of the food he fancies appear around him all he likes. Apples, bananas and carrots aren't an appropriate dog's diet. Their tinned food may contain the odd vegetable, but they're not the main ingredient. The stuff you buy from Lidl is mostly made from other dogs.

Who’d want a rucksack with a picture of a partially clothed terrier on it anyway? You’d have to be a certain sort. How's he keeping his glasses on? How did they type on his chest? This backpack throws up too many questions for its own good.
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