The mister is nerving himself up to write about people he and the missus know. These people have been to our den for parties, but the member of their family I know best is their dog Randy. From his p-mail.
I’m big, but Randy is huge. Bulky and loping, he has a head the size of the one a different friend of the mister’s put on his wall after a trip to Alaska. It has weird headgear I don’t get at all.
When he’s taken out walking, Randy wears headgear, too, called a muzzle. To be honest, I’m glad they make him wear it, from the noises he makes inside the thing. I think his mister and missus got Randy because they’re afraid of something.
