His finger's in my eye. Her bouncing bottom is crushing my lungs. They're so loud, and he has some serious stinking poop in his trousers. When will the big people tell them to leave me alone? How long do I have to take this? Don't these little people know I'm a scary Rottweiler? Ah well, it's all worth it if I can just reach the cookie the little guy left under the dresser two days ago.
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