I promise that Joan has no connection with the makers of Dog Poo. Neither do I. Neither does Shane or any other dog in the neighborhood. Neither does Kyla, who bought the special herbal dog shampoo in the first place as a Christmas present. There, have I offered enough disclaimers? (Joan said it was necessary or no one would believe me.)
Well, here's the scoop on Dog Poo (you like that play on words?): Dog Poo is the best shampoo I've ever had massaged into my fur. It smells clean—not perfumy clean, but clean-all-over morning-sunshine clean—and has left my coat so soft, shiny, and with a manageability, well, I simply can't believe it. Also, I don't look all pink anymore! So, don't just shampoo your best friends; Dog Poo them!
True, I wasn't happy at the prospect of yet another bath. No, I didn't want to look all drowned-ratty and miserable and squished into the narrow bathtub against my will, against my better judgment, against the spirit of my dogginess. But, once again, Joan aka the Human ruled. And she was right. I feel better and I know I look like one of those plus-sized models—only better. Now that I think of it, what with all those Miss USA people going to rehab and having babies, maybe I could take someone's place. I'm sure the Dog Poo people would sponsor me. How about it, Mr. Trump?
Best wishes, Juno aka Miss Dog USA
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