Buddy: A story about a dog where the dog doesn't die at the end.

Hi, my name is Buddy, and I am a dog. But not just any dog, I am SUPERDOG (note the capitals) and I saved planet earth from an evil cat invasion, then I married Lassie, and went to the moon with Scooby Doo. And that's all before breakfast. Now you may have seen the cover and see a picture of an adorable dog, and think, I have seen books like this before. The dog always dies at the end. Well fear not, I am immortal!

Meet Buddy, a dog with an imagination, and a love for treats. He lives with his owner Mindy, and his goals in life are to have a cat-free world, marry Lassie, and be best friends with Scooby Doo. Here is his autoDOGography.


(Please tell me what you think, as I don't normally write in this style)

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2. Chapter One-collection of poems

  I have been up all night thinking of ideas for my autoDOGography, and I decided to add a collection of poems and photos. I will first show you some of my incredible poetry. 

 

A DOG'S HEART

A simple way to reach my heart,

is giving me treats, biscuits and a nice piece of tart.

I am quite fond of tummy rubs too,

but only the greatest tummy rubs will do.

 

Take me on long walks in the park,

and when evil kitties arrive I shall definitely bark.

Brush my hair with your finest hairbrush,

and I swear I shall stop licking your toothbrush.

 

There are many ways to reach a dog's heart,

for example put an extra tick on his good doggie chart.

Move your chair to the fire, and let me sit on your lap,

and at Christmas time let me eat all the gift wrap.

 

Give me all your love, and all your devotion,

take me on a boat trip across the ocean.

Promise me now that we shall never part,

and then I will give you my furry dog's heart.

 

What do you think eh? Amazing or what? Here's another :)
 

The outsiders

Sitting by the window with the fire burning in the hearth,

I softly lick a bone, it's flavors bursting around my mouth.

I stare at my bed, my toys, my Mandy and my home,

the one place where the earth seems to revolve around me.

 

I have everything a dog could ask for,

and still I'm given more.

There's a naughty corner with my name on it,

and more food than my tummy can bare.

 

Outside the rain keeps falling, atop the outsider dogs,

who have nothing but what's left of their lives.

They sit in the gutters all alone, silent tears streaming down their snouts,

they have no where they belong, no one who loves them, no where they can call home.

 

They have not enough to eat, they are deprived of all dignity,

the house they once had lived in can no longer be called their home.

If the world was perfect, and every life was worth living,

every house would have a dog and every dog would have a home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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