I love to go shopping, even if, as previously stated, Mommy and Daddy waste away money on useless items, the names of which I believe to be things like "shampoo" and "not chocolate," but mostly "notforellie." I honestly do not know how so many different objects can be named that, but I am constantly told, in much the same voice Mommy uses to say "That's a puppy!" or "That's sharp!" that "That's notforellie," so I can only assume that that is their official name, from the wires which sprout forth from the walls to the black, whirring box beside the desk. That is alright, as, while notforellies are usually not enticing in the least, they are, of course, mine. Yet there are obviously items that are placed inside carts which clearly belong to me and none else, and these I hold dearly. Photographed is me as I usually sit on major grocery trips, surrounded by my milk and some biscuits. Daddy allowed me to hold these for the photograph, but later, when I attempted to chew through to the biscuit goodness, Daddy removed them from my grasp. All is well, however, as I immediately reached back and obtained them once more from amongst all the notforellies.
"May I consume these this instant?"
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