My name is Mortimer*. I am much tougher than I look. I can see off dogs many times my size. It is not the size of the dog in the fight, it is the size of the fight in the dog. Just watch me — if I get a chance.
Trouble is my mummy carts me around in a pram. I hate being in a pram. Where’s my dognity?
I want to run around, stretch my legs, chase cats, smell all those wonderful scents and pongs out there. Humans don’t realise how good the world smells, how much is revealed if you’ve got the nose. Humans aren’t smart enough.
Trouble is my mummy keeps me in a pram. I hate it.
Mummy is very kind. There is no doubt she really loves me. See she has even put a fan to cool my face.
But why does she keep me in a pram?
* Not my real name. You could say it’s a pseudognym.