"Rollo"
         Your Special New BFF
Can you make room for a very special, furry loving dog like me? I sure hope so.
I’m okay  in a small space. My previous owner’s place was one bedroom trailer which he left in a kind of hurry and has not yet been found. And I don’t mind apartments as long as I can enjoy twice-daily walks that don’t go by churches or consecrated cemeteries. Plus, being totally house-broken, the scent of burning sulfur in the air will  tell you if I need to go outside to “do my business.”
I know lots of tricks. I can catch, play dead, beg, shake hands, glow in the dark and levitate. Also, I can bark once for “please” and twice for “thank you” when offered a tasty snack. Plus I’ve learned to bark in what some say sounds like Latin, or an ancient Sumerian tongue. But I’ll always be your BFF, Roly Poly Rollo.
Speaking of wacky woofy, I’m one of those special dogs who starts to resemble the family he’s with. Also, sometime it may sound like the voice of your dead grandmother, or another long-deceased relative coming out of my cute mouth, but that’s just Rollo being Rollo.
Special treats for my doggie dish include meat from animals slaughtered before my eyes – ideally with a knife carved from onyx. I also love a din-din of goat entrails atop of Kotex recently used by a Nun, or wrapped in 16^th century Hungarian crushed velvet and buried at midnight in the eastern-most part of your lawn.
I have certain allergies and – as my previous owner sadly learned – do not do well around clover, sage, or garlic. Nor am I comfortable with recently baptized babies, or old ladies  addicted to Rosaries. However, I do enjoy chewing on a bit of mandrake root, or a bone from the cadaver of a state-executed serial killer.
My favorite play toys? Anything handled by, or belonging to a priest addicted to anal sex with little boys.
I rarely bite – save for that rare front door encounter with virgin Mormon missionary.
I love kids as they are far more tender and tasty than any tough old goat.
Best of all, I promise endless wealth and ever-lasting life for any owner willing to  scratch my tummy and whisper my special name in my floppy doggie ear: Baal-zephon, Lord of Nysrogh while staring into my right eye.  

 
 Note: Satire plagiarized from Esquire magazine