Dear San Francisco,
My name is Sadie. If you see me on the street, don't make any sudden movements. It freaks me out. I am a Mama's girl, she is paws-down the awesome-est human I have ever smelled (and I sniff like it's going out of style). The rest of you humans are okay as long as you can keep your voice at a reasonable level and not be too hyper. If I sniff you over and you're chill, I'll hook you up with a nose bump or two. People love them. They are cute.
The thing is, you city folks recognize how blonde, adorable, and perfectly apartment-sized I am. But deep down, I'm a hound dog, y'all. Mama rescued me back in the day from a farm off a country road in North Carolina. Don't get me wrong, the farm was dope. But you can only handle ticks in your ears (and sleeping outside) for so long.
Despite my modest beginnings, I made my way to the the city by the bay and, as it turns out, I'm pretty fancy. Go on, Google me -- I'm what you might call a "comfort retriever," the rather charming hybrid breed of Cocker Spaniel mixed with Golden Retriever. So boo-yah to those chickens back on the farm that were all flappin' about saying I didn't belong. No, I didn't belong you stupid hens! And how's that smelly shack treating ya?! I'm currently lounging in a warm hardwood flat and sleep in a BED. Try to peck me now!
I take my Mama on walks several times a day. First thing in the morning and late at night are regular strolling times. Give me a friendly holler if you see me, but don't get to close to my Mama. Or I will go from cute city dog to ruthless guard dog in less time than it takes to say "bite me."
Smoochies on the face,