The Doge lies in wait of the moment you stir, for there is the outside and the outside is great. The Doge differs from The Cat for The Cat thinks she is the master deserving of all good things; The Doge nose wiser.
The Doge licks your chipotle aioli fingers and worries for your soul, for how can a Human feel so much Fried Fish Taco and leave a Doge away from Taco for so long? More worrying is the lack in the nose: how can a Human feel so much Hamachi yet touch so little for The Doge to investigate when the Human comes home? It can be very trying to maintain a Human.
The Doge takes solace in a dream of Hamachi hopping through a field of water. It is sunset. The living is easy and the tide is high. The women nose rich, the men nose beautiful. A yacht of interest, just out of reach, like the other delicious Hamachi, in the slivers among the waves. The Doge nose Margaritas from a teardrop.
The Doge finds weakness in your heart. The Doge licks your fingers. The Doge is pleased. Long live The Doge.