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| Duchess |
This is her head. Think of it as the tip of a fantastically large iceberg. Much larger than the iceberg that sunk the Titanic. She is also much larger than the Titanic, harder to sink, and her mouth can save more passengers than all the Titanic lifeboats.
Don't be fooled by the scale in this picture. Those two trees in the background are 400 foot redwood Sequoias, reduced to Bonsai status beside Duchess.
Duchess likes to eat stale grass in a wet mud couscous, as well as some of the cuter infants that stroll around the neighbourhood in carriages. Strangely enough, upon finishing a baby, she spits out the diaper. I would have pegged that as the best part, thinking dog-like.
The awesome thing about walking Duchess is that I get a 5-kilometre area to myself due to the public-wide fear she instills. Imagine a 50s Japanese Godzilla movie, stomping through a village as the panicked residents flee, screaming in mismatched vocals. That's why her nickname is Dogzilla.
The truth is that Duchess is a huge sweetheart and a gigantic suck. She loves belly rubs and discussing the finer points of Hemingway's work. Notice the furrowed brow, denoting a well-read dog. I have trouble keeping up because it requires me to read.
She also speaks Great Danish fluently.
No, that's not a muzzle on her face. It's a harmless halti, which allows me to control her movements because she's Ronda Rousey and I'm Pee-wee Herman. She could still eat me if she so desired.
I do nothing to dispel the "Duchess as monster" myth. Who doesn't want a neighbourhood to themselves.
