Model citizen

The lights are too bright and the woman fussing over me has clipped my tail so short, my whole rear end could be on view for all I know. I can't turn around. They've got me wedged in but you'd never know. All you see is the glint in my eye and you pretend you can't see the fear there and the mirror. No, this is supposed to fill you with pride, the gallant stead, fine specimen of beast, ready to romp and tally ho etc. hop on my back and let's go. Sure that's why the hollow is there, for plump British bottoms to fill. I'm incomplete without you.
      Well you can go get yourself some other brute from the stud down the road. I wouldn't chase a dog if you paid me. I'm going to relieve myself on the floor again, hopefully on that imbecile's shoes. He's stopping again, he feels my hair needs to be more rustic, windblown, nonchalant and the primper skips over and gently brushes the wisps over my eye, further into the shot. I show her my lustrous teeth and she giggles and blushes. I'd love a carrot or an apple right now, preferably the Egremont Russet. The photographer shakes his head, "What an animal" he declares. I spit in his face.