The pavement neath my pad pawed feet is sometimes rough (They seldom Sweep) I tour my little concrete Fief with a boy on a chain dragged off his feet. I sniff and check each rock and tree to find which dogs have stopped to ***. I roll a growl deep in my throat if I see rivals here about. If perchance, Fifi I meet I wag my tail and act real sweet. She's French you know, and , when in heat, worlds can collide and blend tout suite.