Well, here finally is the conclusion of the whole matter. A staggering one to my mind, and one of which we must all take serious note, and act presciently, lest a disaster befall us all.
I continue my strange story then. In order to make sure that my eyes were not deceiving me, I brought my trusty ex-army binoculars on my next foray into the unknown. Located behind an old tree, possibly elm or beech – trees are not my strong suit – I was able to observe the most amazing thing. Every dog, and most of them bulldogs for some odd reason, was beginning to sprout tiny wings!
So that was it! Evolution in action! These dogs were not as stupid as they looked. They had worked out that in order for pigs to fly, which I am told has been observed on the odd occasion, they would have had to live on a diet of winged creatures for years on end. After all, every journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, as someone of a previous age has already mentioned! Winged creatures must contain the essential minerals needed to promote growth of wings in other species, even if it did take years, and possibly decades.
But, these dogs reasoned, why should pigs have all the fun? Why indeed? I had to salute their spirit of enterprise.
My advice is to look upon your dogs now, especially bulldogs, in a different way, and check regularly for growth of new wings, or you may find them laughing at you from the clouds – or possibly doing something even worse. Beware – for the dog is reborn. It is truly The Day of the Dog, and for all we know, The Night of the Dog too!
Perhaps it is an idea to write a poem about this strange business. That is what I will attempt, I think. It will probably be found in 'The Curse of The Square Crow' and called 'The Bulldog Breed'. By the way, if you find the idea of dogs with wings distressing, it would be better perhaps to forget the poem and instead simply keep a keen eye on the sky, just in case.
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