Wheeling Gull Isle fried chicken

Oh, man! This new friend talks, unlike `Ohiki and his friends, who never want to give the sheepdog the time of day. She rolls onto her belly and begins worming her way toward the raccoon with her ears slicked back and her tail wagging so hard she’s little more than a walking spaghetti noodle. “Welcome Undersea,” she whuffs delightedly, immediately curious about the masked creature. “Who? What?”