Daily Blague

Hello, I am Timmy, the Duke of Death. I live in Salem, Connecticut, where I am widely feared. Do not confuse me with that movie character played by Richard Harris, the Duck of Death. I am the true Duke, and Clint Eastwood wouldn't stand a chance with the likes of me! Grrr! I will make you plead for death, so incessant is the noise I produce!

Although I belong to the quiet race of Italian Greyhounds, and shouldn't bark at all, I was brought up with Max and Rex, a couple of German shepherds who liked to vocalize. Being the zed in this alpha pack, I learned to like vocalizing, too, and now I am capable of making you and your friends wish that you were stone deaf. I bark constantly, unremittingly, without surcease, and all the time - as long as my mistress is at home. She is the alpha dog now. When she leaves the house, even in the care of monstrous jerks such as the wanker who took this snapshot of me and who is probably libeling me on the Internet, I cower in the laundry closet and pray for her early return. The littler greyhounds who make up my pack have been trained, at great expense, not to bark as much as I do, but they cower too, so it's nice to know that hierarchy still has a place in America. Rah George!

All dogs are mortal; I am a dog; therefore my voice box is mortal.