Reminding myself that I have a tailbone keeps me in check.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
If you are a dog and your owner suggests that you wear a sweater suggest that he wear a tail.
My friends all tell me I was born with a horseshoe up my butt.
What a dog I got, his favorite bone is in my arm.
I don't need to pat myself on the back until my arm breaks. I don't need any of that.
In times of joy, all of us wished we possessed a tail we could wag.
I don't know if I've ever had a memorable body check. It's not really part of my game.
I know that my foot is firmly wedged in the door, and I'll be damned if I pull it out, even for a second.
You don't even want to look in the mirror after you've had a baby, because your stomach is just hanging there like a Shar-Pei.
Follow me around. I don't care. If anybody wants to put a tail on me, go ahead. They'd be very bored.
I've never worked with a tail, that I can remember. But there's so much I can't remember.