Sherbet, the pukey yellow scratch that cohabits with Mister Park, is waiting. And Mister Park knows it. Any moment now, once he’s outside with Profit&Loss on walkies duties, Sherbet will stop waiting and get up to mischief.
Honestly, yuz two, how about keeping Sherbet locked up and away from my breakfast plate and water bowl?
“walkies,MisterPark?” Profit ruffles his earflaps.
“heneedstodohisbusiness,isall” grunts Loss.
Actually, I need yuz both to constrain this creature or he’ll be at my lamb and rice sensitive dry feed
Honestly, can yuz lot not snifz this vicious mammal for wot it really is?
Sherbet sits on the stairs, waiting for him to shut up and leave.
Profit&Loss clip Mister Park to his lead and open the front door. But, not before Mister Park gives a stern eyeball at the scratch.
Look here, Sherbet, keep yor claws off my bowl!
The door shuts. Waiting over. Sherbet pads down the stairs, turns the corner, rubbing herself against the bannister, before heading straight for Mister Park’s food bowl.
Mister Park can snifz rainlick and expects it to start falling in moments.
Rainlick is coming, yuz can snifz it in the clouds he barks at Profit&Loss. They’re not paying attention to him, as usual, having stepped out without the umbrella.
Down Meadow Lane, squirting his two fav marker posts on the way, waiting patiently on the corner until the roundlegs have all growled past, and slowly, oh so slowly, crossing the road towards Herdwick pooping park. His snout twitching lyk mad at all the colourful snifz of Westley Piddle. Orange-snifz of nosh in restaurants and cafes, the yellow-snifz of those big marker posts in the park, and the blue-snifz of hindlegs. A purple sniffer of something dead nearby in the woods behind the park.
Snifz yu Mister Park calls Donuts in a ridiculously upbeat voice.
Snifz yu Donuts
They bump snoutz.
Watch the game?
Anyways… Donuts at a loss for barks nice weather init, boyo?
Mister Park does a squirtz and Donuts, having sniffed it out, adds a dab of his own.
Rainlick is coming Mister Parks adds flatly, never entirely comfortable exchanging small barks with awkward fourlegs he meets on walkies.
Sounds lyk it’s all drop kicking off with the scratch at Tesco Extra, dunnit? Donuts shakes earflaps.
I don’t know about that, Donuts, I have enough to contend with thinking of Sherbet messing his drinking bowl.
But I got a plan to get thems scratch ‘round the five bins well sorted, init?
Hmm, I stern word never hurts Mister Park agrees.
True! Plus a stern conversion up their dead ball line don’t hurt none too, init?
Not sure violence is the way to go, Donuts sighs Mister Park. These lesser fourlegs can’t help giving it the melodrama.
Got us a plan for thems scratch, bach, a good plan too. Gotta snifz out the right forward pack, first. Interested?
I find peaceful dialogue the bet–
Peaceful dialogue? Donuts yawns Good one. I’ll remember to kick that one up their fluffy poop holes
“it’sraining,fatso” Wynn tugs at Donut’s lead
Gotta go find some right hard-snouted fours Donuts barks after Mister Park for me forward pack, boyo!
Mister Park, trotting back home to confront Sherbet, could care less.
Missy Biscuits is standing with Tony under the wall of West Pid’s Thames Valley PD compound. Black scratch on her mind.
The snifz of happy munching wafts over wall.
Wot yu eating?
That’s police business Shadow’s bark from over the wall.
Salmon fillet with rice and carrots nibblets Jax adds right tasty, an’ all
Don’t tell her police business growls Shadow wot kind of PD are yu?
Anyway boys Missy throws paws up the wall, tail wagging hate to intrude on yor gob-filling duties protecting public and property and the lyks, but…
“oh,Missy, don’tupsetthosepolicedogs” Tony whines.
It’s alright Tony, they’re harmless
Harmless is it? Archhhhhh, ughhhhhh Shadow starts choking on his nibblets.
Wotz up Missy? Duncan’s gruff voice rises over the chocking.
Well, nothing that two mins without a chain round me neck won’t fix, but…
There’s this scratch in Herdwick that needs a right steaming
Furry? Two ears? Whiskers? Black?
As well as….
Archhhhhh, ughhhhhh continues Shadow.
We know it, Missy confirms Duncan escapee from that new scratch sanctuary on High Street
“oh,Missy,stopupsettingthosepolicedogs” Tony is continuously whining.
So, wot yu going to do about it, boys?
The reply is contented munching of salmon fillet with rice and carrot nibblets.
Archhhhhh – ah, ah-heh! Hah! That’s better
We’ll keep an eyeball out adds Duncan reassuringly, who has a bit of a soft spot for Missy wot we’re trained for
Missy stares at the wall, sniffing at the munching, noshing and gobbling going on the other side.
Come on Tony she pulls her companion away, her earflaps laid flat on scruff, heading purposefully for the park we don’t need this bunch o’ happy muttwits!
Tony wobbles along behind.
We can sort this Tony, my luv, just yu and me
It don’t take long for Donuts to find some well hard streetlegs for his forward pack – Drizzle and Tuffy, anyways. Both are lying under Costa Coffee tables, sheltering from the rainlick.
Snifz yuz, boyos
Snifz yu too Drizzle calls back
Wotz up monkeynuts? adds Tuffy.
“stayhereDonuts,needmylowfatlatte” Wynn ties up the Welsh Terrier to a table leg and wobbles inside.
Right then, yuz up for some gainful employ?
Better than that Donuts shakes rainlick from earflaps scratch bashing!
Tuffy jumps up, bashing his one earflap against the table when? Where?
Keep yer fur on One Ear, we need a plan first, and a few more fours Donuts scratches himself.
A plan? asks Tuffy.
More fours? asks Drizzle.
Exactly! ‘cept I got the plan, boyos, but I need the fours – some right hairy-butt wrenchers, too
I know two hairy-butt wrenchers Tuffy wags his tail in excitement.
Donut licks his chops don’t be a muttwit, some more hairy-butt wrenchers
Big knickers ‘enry? suggests Drizzle don’t get much hairier-butted than him
Lost his plumb-bobs tho, ain’t he? Tuffy answers, quickly checking under a back leg to make sure his own plump-bobs are still present and correct where he last sniffed ‘ems.
Nah, we need streetlegs, not houseden pets. Who else?
Giblets? sez Drizzle.
Nah, also houseden!
Gunther? sez Tuffy.
PD Duncan? sez Tuffy again.
Feds? No way boyo Donuts says aghast wot we really need is some right-hard, hairy-butted street muttwit
They eyeball one another.
GitOrrf! they all bark at once.
Donuts shakes earflaps, oh dog, give me patience! GitOrrf! is the smallest streetlegs ‘round abouts but, wot to do?
Alright then, we got the forward pack sorted, now for the plan –
Wotz a forward pack? asks Drizzle.
Rugby pack, boyo, same as rugby scrum. Yu know, wot comes out the telly
The telly? both fourlegs answer, well impressed by Donut’s intellectuals.
That’s right. Strong and noble fours wotz gonna crouch, bind and set to rights thems scratchy ugly buggas!
That’s the plan? states Drizzle, a large Rhodesian Ridgeback who’s always happy to get into snout tussles with hindlegs, fourlegs, scratch, or any other kind of leggy mammal.
Nice plan wags Tuffy.
That ain’t the plan, that’s the scrum Donuts licks his snout holes, and then, in a low growl the plan is – to trot down Tesco Extra five bins and kick the poop out every butt-lickin’ scratch we snifz out
The two fourlegs stare at Donuts not really getting the first part of the plan, nor the last part, not any part of it, exactly.
Donuts is patient. These good old boys are well-intentioned but just not strategical lyk wot he is leave it with me coz he knows wot needs knowing, and wot needs doing.
“comeonethenDonuts” Wynn is back with his latte.
Right then boyos, five squirtz later ‘round front of Tesco Extra…and don’t forget to bring GitOrrf!
Wot about him, Wingnuts? Tuffy looks up at Wynn how will yu get there with him on his chain, lyk?
Nah, don’t fret, I’ll bring him, too reassures Donuts got no intellectuals but he’s sorta harmless!
Laters Donuts waddles off at speed, Wynn sipping and spilling his latte coz the cup and leash are both in the same handpaw.
Wotz a scrum, then, Tuffy? asks Drizzle.
Who cares! Tuffy’s brain is ready to burst coz of the plan, wotever a plan is, exactly. And wotever part is front, end or middle. He starts scratching his one earflap to stop any brain mush from bursting out.Wotz a telly? asks Drizzle, also.