She had even run away from the Walkers several times. Sprinting down the never-ending path, confectionary pink tongue tasting the manure laden flavor of freedom, velvety ears streaming behind her, kicking up gravel in the face of propriety. Poodle-doodle-doo! she had cried, wild and free and obscenely beautiful, like a moonbeam with teeth. - Winnie the Poodle
-Kira Jane Buxton
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