The fourlegs community of Westley Piddle is in shock: doggies are being whisked off the street in broad daylight, right in front of their dumb hindlegs companions. About time a scruffy streetlegs wakes up, snifz the air, noshes a bit, and actually does something.
A particularly fine summer’s afternoon in Westley Piddle. That unexceptional and mostly unremembered little town huddled on the Thameslick between Bisham and Cock Marsh. Clouds are making thems whooshing noises, jostling each other out the way across the sky. Heat rises from the pavement, carrying the orange snifz of earth, fag ends and well-trodden fruity bubble gum. A particularly sniffy day.
The fourlegs are waking up to it all –
Helloooo, snifz yuz!
Helloooo snifz yuz, too
Greggs all-day brekkers, init
Nah mate, that’s tomorra, lyk
Tesco Extra today?
Yep, pizza specials in thems five bins ‘round back
Not to be outdone, the hindlegs are up, too.
“nonsense,nonsense,andnonsense,” they scritch as they go wobbling about, “nonsense,nonsense,andmorenonsense.” Fourlegs don’t care wot hindlegs are scritching about coz they already understand enough of it thanks to their sniffy hindlegs colours. Everything snifz of a colour. Hindlegs, scratch, flaplegs, furrylegs, longlegs, heavylegs, and other sniffy fourlegs, corss.
“nicedog,nicelittledog,nonsense,nonsense,” a passing hindlegs bends down to stroke Gitorrf!, the scruffy Border Terrier wot lives with his homeless hindlegs companion called Halfleg. GitOrrf! opens one eyeball from his chasing dream.
“Gitorrf!” Halfleg scritches at the intruder “wunpound,fortouchingthedoggy” and holds out his cupped handpaw.
“no,nonsense,nonsense,” the hindlegs scritches back and wobbles off.
GitOrff! lays his head back on the cardboard and nestles closer to Halfleg, with every intention of returning into his chasing dream.
“GitOrrfme,yerlittletoiletbrush,” Halfleg kicks at him with his stump, unhappy at missing out on some quick drinking money. Missed! GitOrff! barks. Halfleg slumps halfway down on his cardboard outside the Pig & Ferret, a can of warm Bulmers Original Premium Cider tilting at his face. He swings another at GitOrrf!’s head “GitOrrfme,aysed”
Missed again GitOrrf! springs up on short little legs. Shaking himself, sniffing the air noshing time! and he’s off down the high street, ignoring Halfleg and his bad tempered red-snifz. Between the Pig & Ferret and other noshing spots there’s loads of pointless, sniffless, foodless shops.
Bank, estate agent, chemist, Samsung, charity shops – particularly thems charity shops wot gives off that sour blue purply-snifz. Luckily there are a few honest lampposts along the way, lyk, wot needs some serious marking. Each lamppost is splashed with the unique orange-yellow squirtz of Westley Piddle’s numerous fourlegs.
Duncan’s squirted here, beforenows. And Giblets. And Tuffy. And Drizzle. And nows me! One quick orange-yellow squirtz, aiming a touch higher than the others, before trotting towards the next lamppost.
Trotting past Human Beans Café, GitOrrf! licks whiskers at the wafting orange-snifz of turkey and Emmental cheese toasties.
Stopping for a quick eyeball and a tentative lick of the door jamb uh-huh, nothing in easy grabbing-and-legging-it range
Some really bright orange-snifz kicks off outside the Star of India ah, butter chicken, Rogan ghosht, oily slurpy meaty stuff
Trotting ’round back to the kitchen bins
That’s more lyk it
His four legs are too short to climb into the bins, but there’s plenty of colourful sniffy droppings ’round the bin wheels. Biriyani, shrimps, garlic naan, lamb chops all washed into the gutter that’ll work
GitOrrf! snoutz open the closest plastic bag and snifz his way inside.
A ginger scratch scrutinizes everything from atop the bins, a single eyeball staring from a scarred face.
Back out on the high street GitOrrf! bumps snoutz with Giblets. Snifz yu
Oi, snifz yu the young Brindle Boxer grunts anything worth noshing back there, streetlegs?
Total nosh fest, Gibs!
Bril Giblets yawns a mouth full of large healthy teeth I’ll just go take a sni – whoaaa! he is yanked away on the lead by his hindlegs companion.
Anyways, snifz any bitches ragging it, lyk? he manages to twist his head ‘round at GitOrrf! as he is marched off on his walkies.
Nah mate GitOrrf! wags his toilet brushy tail, the tip bitten off summers ago.
Keep up the sniffing then, streetlegs and Giblets is gone
Hey, GitOrrf! barks a red-marled Australian Shepherd tied up to the public bin outside Tesco Extra. Snifz yu, Missy Biscuits he trots right up to her. Gudday mate, snifz yu, too they bump snoutz. Just gonna pop ‘round back to Tesco five bins he barks best nosh in West Pid. Wanna come?
Bit tied up right nows, mate she jerks at the lead.
All of a sudden, a growling roundlegs screeches to a stop right beside Missy Biscuits. Some right hairy blue-purply sniffy hindlegs Stanley blades her lead and whisks her into the back of the roundlegs.
Hold on, mate. Hold on! Missy barks in panic I don’t packmate with yuz!
“getindoggy,getinwithyers” the blue-purply hindlegs scritches, kicking her up the butt for good measure and slamming shut the door. Do something, mate a muffled bark at GitOrrf!
Erh, lyk wot? GitOrrf! licks the slobber off his whiskers at the thought of more nosh as the whisking happens before his very eyeballs.
Lyk right lickin’ nows, matey Missy pawing at the window as the roundlegs growls off down the street, turning right at the corner of the vape place and disappearing.
GitOrrf! catches one snifz from the roundlegs. And that’s more than enough.
Don’t worry Missy. I’ll come get yu. Trust me licking at the spot where Missy got whisked away, squirting a sniffy yellow-orange marker on top.
Wot to do?
Sleep, squirtz, poop, check out more bins,
or snifz out some mates to help save Missy?
The answer is drowned out by a hindlegs wotz scritching in GitOrrf!’s earflaps.
Steady on mate!
Whisked off, mate, just this very squirtz
“nonsense,nonsense,nonsense!WheresMissyBiscuits,erh?” the hindlegs hops from one footpaw to the other, scritching louder and louder. GitOrrf! recognises Missy’s name between all the nonsense scritchings.
Alright mate, chill yer beans and stop yor ag, lyk, so I can explain
Trouble is, a right pack of hindlegs are soon gathered all over, scritching it lyk mad. Dog-dammit, hindlegs do love their scritchings.
If yuz all shuddup and listen I’ll tell yuz how the roundlegs grabs Missy, lyk, growls off and disappears by the Vape place–
But the pack of hindlegs don’t listen and don’t stop their scritchings.
And – I knows where’s she’s trotting off to, coz that roundlegs snifz of Freddy’s Farm and that crazy red-sniffy muttwit wotz called ThreeLegs. Okays?
Hindlegs are pointing and scritching and pointing some more at the squirtz spot. Then another startling thing happens. Missy’s packmate puts handpaw to earflap and starts scritching even louder.
Oi, mate? Mate? Scritching ain’t gonna get Missy back from Freddy’s Farm, izit?
Coz all thems scritching and pointing hindlegs are deaf in their tiny earflaps, GitOrrf! tries shoving and waggling his snout about in the direction of the vape place to get their attention. Complete waste of time as it happens.
Aw lickit, yuz lots, I’m off to go find her mesself, know wot I’m sayin’ he barks.
GitOrrf! trots off towards the Police Station, leaving all the useless sniffy scritching hindlegs behind.
Freddy’s Farm and ThreeLegs. Only Duncan can sort this, init he grunts, snout down and dodging roundlegs in order to reach the Thames Valley PD compound.
En route he leaves yellow-orange squirtz on several lampposts, a couple of trees, a lovely orange-sniffy rubbish bin, and challenges a suspicious-looking black plastic bag. Even finds some half-eaten sniffy cheeseburger wot won’t go to waste.
that’s pretty much got it all –
Aw, yu [SPOILER ALERT] yu! 😋🐾
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