Thou shalt not suffer an insect to live

"I neither need nor have room for these, but I want them just the same," I confessed, handing over a biography and a cultural history.

"Happens to me all the time," sympathised the saleswoman, before chiding something at her feet that was worrying at a cardboard box.

I peered over the counter and a black puppy gazed back at me with a fangy grin.

"What sort is he?" I asked.

"A pug crossed with a bichon frise."

"I like his face. There's something about it..."

"He's got the cutest little underbite in Sydney. Haven't you, [name of underage dog withheld]?"

And he did. He also reminded me of Rexley, the sadistic scruffbag from Dog Judo, but I didn't mention that.