Dogs of Cook Islands

Cook Islands is a paradise place, indeed - far away. Very, very far away.
A village in the middle of the ocean. Tourism is not ruined.
I ask for something to eat in the barbecue, the barbecue says, I close.
I explain that I just arrived - she apologizes, and mastery me a thick sandwich - for free. You start paying tomorrow.
There is only a man on the road. He says I go to work. What kind of work is it on Sunday? I am the Minister of Finance.
A tiny resort where we (from the hostel) are allowed to use the pool, lounges, and close our eyes to the fact that we steal shampoo from the shower. The whole hostel is filled with these little green bottles.
The prison is called the "Hotel of Broken Hearts", the only inhabitant is a British who drinks on Saturdays and boasts at the worship. In the sense, it is drunk every day, but it is planted on Saturdays.
On the coins is the local god, Rarotonga. It looks like a three-legged one, but it’s not a foot at all. On the edge is the Queen of England. His Majesty is very pleased.
I give right. There were only five roads. The last point on the road is to watch for dogs.
There are many homeless dogs - all kind, calm, in bandanas on the neck. They are watched by the windpoint. Dogs catch fish in the lagoon. They wander, wander, then hop and dive. Only the ass from the water pulls, the tail flaps.
Sometimes poisoned with poisonous fish, then veterinarians put them on an infrared table - to maintain body temperature. Run then with a bald side, tea, not winter in the courtyard. Weather, with rare exceptions - 26-28.
In the evening, the dogs admire the sunset. A dog pair is sitting in the water, only the wet earring heads are visible, and watching the enormous sun sink beyond the edge of the earth.