There is a doggy smell.
My sharp eyes see no strayed dog running anthropomorphically, I am clairaudience yet never hear any rapid breathing, but I can smell it. My nostrils are big!
Trek further up, I begin to smell my sweat-soaked body, and the doggy smell grows even stronger. When my nose stops at a tree, and when I sniff upwards, I see it. It is Scooby-Doo.
My sharp eyes see no strayed dog running anthropomorphically, I am clairaudience yet never hear any rapid breathing, but I can smell it. My nostrils are big!
Trek further up, I begin to smell my sweat-soaked body, and the doggy smell grows even stronger. When my nose stops at a tree, and when I sniff upwards, I see it. It is Scooby-Doo.
This cowardly dog has always wanted to hide itself from any suspected zombie or ghost, but not smartly, since 1969. It does it again, although there is no sign about the monster that is terrorizing this forest.
It keeps itself disappeared in the tree except the square head. Dooby, this is intended! It would want to be ever ready for Scooby Snacks, a favorite food for the past 42 years.
It keeps itself disappeared in the tree except the square head. Dooby, this is intended! It would want to be ever ready for Scooby Snacks, a favorite food for the past 42 years.
This Great Dane is still the same familiar one after all.
Scooby-Doo, here you are. You have outrun the supernatural creature by lifting a 70-pound body up a 15 foot tree.