The Dog With No Legs

We used to have a dog with no legs. We called him Slug. He couldn't really go anywhere on his own, for reasons which  I believe are relatively evident. So we used to put him in a special trolley we made from a toy pram with the cradle taken off it, and he hung on two fabric straps and it was like he had wheels instead of legs. We pushed him around, taking him for walks, and we fed him by hand, and sometimes we put him in an overnight bag with his head sticking out in front, and carried him about on our shoulders. 

Slug had a very hard life. He was never able to run and play with other dogs; he couldn't cock his leg up against a tree or play fetch or dig holes in the garden. But we never once saw him sad. When we pushed him around on his trolley, his tail never stopped wagging. He barked and yapped with happiness, and licked our faces when we held him. We often let him just lie on our laps, sleeping as we watched TV. He never caused us any trouble. He'd just lie there all day, in his basket, waiting for us to get home and put him in his trolley. And as soon as he saw us, his tail would wag frantically, and I swear to Jesus that legless little sluggy-wug of a dog was grinning from ear to ear.