1 thought on “Memoirs of a Yellow Dog

  1. I was born a yellow pup. I remember the old woman sold me to the fat lady. I grew up to be her pet. The flat that we were living in was in New York, an ordinary flat. There was a little man with us who used to wipe the dishes and listened to my mistress’s talk and then taking me for a walk; he was a very hard working person opposite of my mistress! She was all the time gossiping, chatting with people, reading, watching and leaving dishes unwashed for him. “Doggie, we don’t live more than a [...]

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