A small spotty dog lurks outside (he really must get some oxy10 or hydro-cortizone for those spots). Shivering with the cold and hoping some kind insider will open the door to let him creep close to the fire and warm his old bones (he hates bones a la rare).

Casually flicking an errant flea from behind his left ear he settles down on the sidewalk , his limpid sad eyes gazing with hope at the dark oaken door. The red to orange glow of the warmth inside kindling just enough spirit in his failing body to wait , wait , wait for the heaven of possibilities that lie beyond that dark frame.

Stuggling now to raise his rhuematic back legs to clear his small body from the deathlike cold of the floor , he farts , glances with suprise at his rear and thinks "bloody sprouts".