Last week, my dad took me exploring again. We drove to a bunch of new places, and now our RV is parked a huge ocean. The air here is warm and sticky, and there is always wind blowing in my fur. I don’t mind. It makes me look dramatic.
The people here talk to me like they already know me, and no one seems scared of me, even though I am clearly a very powerful and important German Shepherd. They just smile and say hello and tell me I’m handsome. (Which is correct.)
Dad says this place is called Texas… or Tesas… or something like that. Either way, I like it here.
