It had been a long day at the Cooper Young Fest. I had cured countless people of their repulsive partyofilia, and as a brief and entirely insufficient reward for my services, I let my mighty mind wander for a bit to my own concerns.

My thoughts drifted to my winter wardrobe and certain additions it required.

I needed something attractive yet intimidating, something that radiated my native intelligence, competence and psychiatric power.

What, I wondered, could be more perfect for a therapist of my prestige than a beagle-skin blazer?

So I set off in search of one.

There wasn’t much in the way of domestic fur-goods among the festival booths, which were more geared towards art, crafts, and other desperate cries for professional attention, but still I persevered.

And at last I found it. The solution to my winter outerwear dilemma: a booth simply titled Dog Coats.

Watch as I skillfully negotiate for a garment with the proprietor in this video:

Alas, I -Doctor Harold Toboggans -was bitterly disappointed by the outcome and feared nothing would ever lift my spirits.

That is until I received a custom poem from the Memphis Writers Ensemble.

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