Otto wonders about those crazy cats.

Now Otto is a big white dog and he has had my ankle. Went for it like he was attacking a juicey bone. Otto has also gone for my goolies, but luckily I was wearing loose dungarees so his nashers missed my crown jewels by inches. He held the crotch of my trousers in his teeth, bared his black gums and smiled a wicked smile. Otto it would seem does not like me.

 

I have seen some people go hysterical, just by having a wasp or a bee, fly around their heads. I have seen people handle spiders and snakes. One man in particular has made his living from picking up poisonous snakes on TV. Crikey!!! A Crazy Australian.

 

Some folks are comfortable with dangerous things, but as for me I sweat fear out of every pore, especially when I see Otto. Perhaps Otto gets the impression that I am wounded in some way, and I need to be culled from the pack Otto does not know I have a wife and family to support. Otto does not ask questions

 

Dogs, I have got nothing against them. Them being man’s best friend and all that, but I think they should give cats a chance. I want to see the day when we have guide cats for the blind. Can you imagine a crazy cat on a leash in traffic?

 

That would give Otto something to think about, and perhaps he would forget about me.

Done