What does dog spell backwards?
Humour is like a dead dog on the path.
It may make you laugh or shock you.
But very few people will cut it open
to find out what's inside.
Bras made holy by screwing the dog buckets.
I prefer cats – they taste better.
The husband was sitting on an armchair smoking a pipe. He looked like a dog, a large dog. I asked the wife why the husband was a dog. She said that I needed to have my eyes cleaned out and that it was time that I had breakfast. I asked her if she needed glasses. She said yes, but she had lost them ten years ago.
As I was leaving the husband took the pipe out of his mouth and said goodbye – a very polite dog I thought.
When I got home the wife, who isn't the wife, asked me what I wanted for breakfast. I asked her why she was here, and why she was not at home with the husband, and why the husband was a dog.
She asked if I had ever seen a dog smoking a pipe before, I couldn't answer that, and she asked what I wanted for breakfast.
I'm not allowed to eat dogs any more. Not that anybody in the house has got anything against eating dogs. Some of them even like dogs. I like dogs that taste nice. But you can't buy any in the shops here, well, not oven ready ones like I want 'em. I suppose it's alright to like dogs as pets, as long as you always clear up the mess, oh, and stop 'em from yapping, making a loud noise. But I like to eat 'em. I like children too.
I found things to eat in the kitchen, there was always something there, always dog food, I didn't eat the dog food. I don't remember seeing any dog or cat in the house. Last week there was cat food in the kitchen, perhaps soon there will be giraffe food.
I thought it a bad idea. The cats didn't like it either. Flying about was alright for the cats but they were hopeless at landing. The dogs didn't care – they were too heavy to fly. But the garden was full of crashed cats.