sidewalk chattter

imagine an animal. sort of like a guard dog. this dog, however has no teeth. its paws are the size of weather balloons. each hair in its coat is made of a different type of paper. somewhere on this dog is a long hair made of money. somewhere else is a carbon copy of your birth certificate. at least seventeen of the hairs are falling slowly from the dog's body as it shakes its head at you. oddly, you notice as the dog smiles that it has a coiled tongue like a frog. you wonder if you should back away. unfortunately, as you try to leave the dog, you come in contact with an angry pillow. the pillow is yelling at you and gesturing wildly. you wish that you had taken a course on nonhuman languages in college. fortunately, the pillow has a meeting to attend and leaves. the sun does not seem to be overly bright. removing your sunglasses, you are surprised to find the dog is now smiling at you. a bird whose legs are approximately three feet in length steps into the street but does not stay within the crosswalk. this action forces a taxicab to brake suddenly; as it does, a man goes flying to the pavement, carrying a small umbrella but losing his hat in the process. his shoes are constructed from hardened sea foam, and they look comfortable. as you start to wonder where these shoes might be sold, the dog looks back in your direction, and you have two questions in your mind. you can remember also that you have spent hours wandering in the hills with this same dog. each hair that fell as you walked seemed to be a page from a different book your teachers had forced you to read in elementary school. you think more about thes questions you want to ask. no one seems to be waiting to answer them. you consider the possibility that the dog might not be your dog. your dogs coat would have poems, your friends' favorite stories, or lines from famous orators. now the question is: are you looking for a pet store or a dropped leash?