This was left in a Log Book in a hunting hut in the central Kaimanawa Ranges in New Zealand, a sentiment we all can share.
…he’s the noisiest, filthiest, fattest, laziest, most cowardly, gun-shy, sock eating, boot destroying, dog bikkies stealing, plate licking, food snatching, tea spilling, collar slipping, hole digging, garden destroying, rubbish scattering, evil smelling, dribbling, infuriating brute of an animal that ever cocked a mangy leg on anything around him.
He befriends rats, he bites friends, and wags his tail to strangers.
He howls on moonlit nights; he howls at bloody well everything except large quantities of meat.
He carries swarms of lice and fleas and ticks. He’s got water mange and patches of his vast acreage of long hair moult all over my place.
But he’s my POOCH…