The irritated canine said, ‘I mean they can’t even muster up the merest charade of mystery by putting it in you know, a box. No. Let’s just wrap the bone up like a bone and put it next to the massive PlayStation 5 you bought for the ten-year old little prick that just gives you shit all of the time.
‘F$ck you very much. Have I not been a dedicated family canine for nine years? Lick your rancid faces like a mad bastard? Check. Humour every mundane ball-throwing antic without fail? Check. Jump for joy when you land me with the utter bullshit moniker, ‘Mister Bojangles.?’ Checkety check.
‘I’m in the family portrait but sure gift me a three quid bone!’
Owner Claire Marshall said, ‘Ah, you should have seen his little face. He’s part of the family so he has to get a special little present. I mean, yes it’s just one of the bones he always has. But I’ve gift wrapped it. You know, for Christmas. As a special treat. Cute, right?’
‘Raging. Absolutely raging. The return of sneaky dumps in your slippers is just the beginning, you mark my words’ commented Mister Bojangles pacing backwards and forwards.
