Monday, 25 February 2008

The Great Slipper Robbery

Jeez, did she go mad or what? I mean one lousy slipper. Anydog would think she'd had her leg amputated in her sleep.

Listen up. If humes leave any kind of footwear (including socks), underwear, or anything else that isn't nailed down just lying around in full reachable distance, it's up for doggy grabs, yeah? Now am I right or am I right?

Of course, Gelert had to play the bloody clown, didn't he, and pranced off with it in his gob because he thought the female hume was having a game. That made her even more ballistic.

“Give her back the bloody slipper,” I barked at him, but it was no good. The dumb klutz just kept running up to her with the slipper in his mouth and then sprinting away again just as she got within reaching distance.

Mind you, you had to laugh.

“Gelert,” said the female hume. “Leave.”

Well, she said it in such a wet, imploring tone you just knew that wouldn't do it.

She knew it as well so she tried the sterner approach.

“Gelert!!! Stay!!!”

Now Gelert is a kind of wolfhound type and isn't full grown yet but he's already massive and has a brain that's about appropriate for a very small chihuahua.

Here's a picture of the ‘Big Guy‘, as Petros the dog doctor calls him:



We're all watching and know what's going through his lentil-sized brain.

“Duh, youse wanna chase me and fetch da slippa den? Goo game, yeah? Goo game.”

And off he goes again with the slipper in his gob.

The hume's going hairless by now but the Big Guy doesn't know the joke's over.

“Gelert!!! If you don't come here and drop that slipper right now.....!”

Well, we could all tell she was losing it.

“I'll.... I'll....”

She shot a quick glance at Poppy who was starting to giggle uncontrollably by now and then carried on:

“I’ll will not tolerate...”

We all knew by now that when she lost the ability to speak proper English, something bad was on its way.

“... none of you will get supper tonight!”

None of us? Now wait up here a minute, lady. Time to take action.

Zaira and Seven, being the fastest, sprinted down the far side of the Big Guy, Poppy and I went to his flanks, Ziggy just went into one of his fits (more of that later), and Mum sauntered casually towards him.

Gelert froze, his feeble mind not able to take in the pincer manoeuvre.

Mum went straight up to him, eyeballing him all the time. When she was six inches from his face she whispered, “Drop the slipper, sweetie, or none of us eat tonight.”

Suffice it to say, the dumb klutz's jaw dropped open in horror and the item of footwear fell to the ground.

At that point, the hume stepped forward, picked up the slipper and then patted the Big Guy on the head saying, “Good boy. Gooood boy. Who's a clever boy then.”

Then she saunters off back up to the house, slipper in hand, without a second glance to the rest of us.

Jeez. We're the ones who got the bloody slipper back and he's the one who gets the praise.

There really is no justice in this world. Am I right or am I right?

1 comment:

Siladitya said...

Who loves dog he loves ur blog also.
BPO work from home