
The thrill of competition. The roar of the crowd. Glory. Victory. Overpriced food.The World Cup can go fuck itself, I’m at a dog competition.I’m at Toronto’s Harbourfront, having enjoyed a scenic 20-minute bus ride beautifully complemented by 20 minutes of lost wandering around construction sites, the crumbling remains of old superclubs, and never-ending condos, condos, condos, letting my legs slowly adhere to the hot, sticky surface of plastic lawn furniture. I’m watching dogs jump into a pool.
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