By Maddie Cincala
My dog stands on small paws, daintily trotting as if on tiptoe. He’s a dapper little man, with a black tie to boot, and attitude to seal the deal. Sheep wool fur flounces and bounces, concealing little black beans, paws padding softly with each step. Nails click-clacking on worn wooden floors and tags jingle-jangling from his collar, announcing his presence politely. This dog’s going places. Four fluffy pillars provide piston-powered speed, letting him fly like white lighting across the overgrowth of grass, from wall to wall, fence to fence. Such little paws for a dog, romping and stomping around the block.