Butt lickin’ muttwits just dont appreciate my responsibilities Treacle is grumbling as he drags Sixlegs towards home so easy for GitOrrf and thems hundred other West Pid muttwits – wotz trotting about squirting and pooping all they wants
Ah, to slip the leash in Herdwick pooping park and be allowed to run. To run. Free. Not him, alas. Not a service-assist dog. Life zipping him by, tethered to a handicapped hindlegs. Can’t even cross the road anywhere he lyks. Must always snifz out the designated crossing point, always waiting peep peep peep before it’s safe to trot on.
“nowlookhereTreacle,you’regoingtoofast” Sixlegs yanks at his handle “thisain’tarace,don’tyerknow?”
I don’t, coz I never been in a butt-lickin’ race, boss
Clouds are scritchy-scratching together and Treacle snifz rainlick getting ready to spill it down. Bad news for Treacle coz all the black arrows are still pointing Sixlegs in the wrong direction.
Boss ain’t gonna lyk this he shakes earflaps, snouting along the pavement for the safest crossing. Road works have displaced traffic signals up to three squirtz further along the High Street. Way too far!
He starts sniffing for other options, lyk wot he was taught, counting thems out on his paws:
Front left paw: Treacle guides Sixlegs three squirtz further
Front right paw: Treacle guides Sixlegs under growling roundlegs
Back left paw: Treacle guides Sixlegs into ditch
Back right paw: Treacle guides Sixlegs across ditch on that temporary wooden bridge, up ahead.
Back right paw, init? Treacle trots towards the wooden bridge, spanning a mud filled ditch hold tight to that little handlebar, boss
Closer Treacle gets to the bridge the more it snifz of being a plank of wood. Thin and slippery. Corss, lotsa hindlegs are crossing all the time. But thems all has two working eyeballs between earflaps. And, sods law, some heavyweight hindlegs has already gone and tilted the plank down on one side.
Sixlegs yanks on his handle ‘hurryup,Treacle,Iwantmytea,andIneedatinkle”
Hold tight, boss
Careful mate, that don’t look safe GitOrrf! trots up, offering advice snifz yu, Treacle, by the way
Noted just wot Treacle needs right now – another streetlegs muttwit.
I was yu, turn ‘round, past Tesco Extra and the Istanbool, down Drakefield Road and past The Greyhound, and past th– GitOrrf! vividly remembers sniffing thems kebabs ‘round back of the Istanbool ..and then, erh, yu almost home, ain’t yuz?
Wotz the same route I plod three times a day
Anyway, Sixlegs needs a tinkle and we ain’t got all butt-lickin’ day
He can tinkle right here
Hindlegs ain’t civilized lyk wot we are
Nah Treacle shakes earflaps we’ll cross right here and be home in time for tea and tinkles
Sounds lyk a bang on plan well impressed at superior intellectuals for such a blind muttwit.
Thanks, bright spark
“STOPbarkingatthatbloodystreetdog” Sixlegs scritches, rattling his frame “IneedaTINKLE”
They reach the ditch and GitOrrf! bounds across making it look so dog-damn easy.
Right then boss, here goes
Rainlick decides this is the perfect moment to tip it all out.
Treacle’s paws are slipping and the ditch is deep.
“Treacle,whatthedevilshappening“ Sixlegs scritches in alarm.
Watch out Treacle! Yu gonna tip Sixlegs adds GitOrrf!, helpfully.
I got this
Treacle’s forepaws are yanked into the air as Sixlegs panics, jerking the frame.
Hold fast yer daft old muttwi–, boss
Careful Treacle, remember yor blind GitOrrf! bounds back to help, nearly tipping thems all into the ditch.
Him behind wotz blind, init, not me yer butt-lickin’ muttwit
Oh! GitOrrf!making it look so dog-damn easy with hisbalancing and turning graceful circles on the slippery plank.
Pff, outta the dog-damn way! growls Treacle. He shoulders forward, front paws thunking down onto the plank, preventing Sixlegs taking a dive into the muddy ditch. Scrabbling the rest of the way across.
Stops on solid ground and lets Sixlegs catch breath.
That was sic! GitOrrf! yelps in astonished glee.
Nah, all in the forelegs
“nearlypissedmysself,yerfurrybugga” Sixlegs rattles the frame in terror.
Jemmapackmother is promising a treat after the day’s shock events. And where better to chill than KFC? At least fourlegs and hindlegs share something in common. It alsos means Smudge gets out and abouts with Jemmapackmate, again.
“comeon,youslots” Jemmapackmother bustles thems through the hallway and out the front door “and,nomoremud,understood?”
Wotz the point of mud if yu can’t plop in it.
Rainlick is tipping it down, splashing from the pavement into Smudge’s eyeballs. He charges up the first muddy mound of earth he can snifz.
Who cares! he trots ‘round abouts on top, chops snapping at the falling rainlick let’s get muddy and then nosh thems chickens
A few trots ahead KFC is a bright and bursting with orange-sniffy chickens.
That’s more like it his tongue licking chops. All of a sudden, thems wholesome sniffy colours are replaced by the overpowering purply-sniffy fumes of diesel.
Wotz going on? he gasps.
The ground vibrates beneath his paws as some huge beast looms up in front of KFC, blocking his view.
This ain’t right
In front of his very eyeballs – between the best chickens in Westley Piddle and him – KFC is disappearing as the beast bites its way forward, chewing out the road into a deep di–
Nah Smudge squeals in panic a beast wotz noshing up KFC!
At that moment, Gunther and GitOrrf! both appear from opposite directions.
Look! Smudge howls at thems KFC is getting all noshed up by that…that
Caterpillarlegs Gunther appraises with a grunt.
Noshing KFC, init GitOrrf! yelps not sparing a blimmin’ sausage!
KFC don’t do sausage wails Smudge init!
Who cares mate, thems sniffy chickens are doom–
Oh no Smudge wails nah, nah, naaaah!
Please not thems sniffy chickens GitOrrf! joins in the wailing.
Corss not zems chickens Gunther barks, determined to instill a bit of German sensibilities it’s only digging a ditch
The three fourlegs lean forward, snouts twitching.
Yu know wot, Gunther’s right Gitorrf! solemnly admits
Coz he’s German? squeaks Smudge.
Coz he’s German GitOrrf! confirms.
At which point Treacle appears, hauling Sixlegs behind him.
Gunther growls in disbelief. As if there ain’t enough great minds ‘round abouts him already – and now another!
Go ahead, ask this stummvit Gunther growls.
Hopeful eyeballs turn towards Treacle who stops, carefully taking in the scene, snout holes twitching at the caterpillarlegs before him.
Dog-dammit he howls that beast’s gonna nosh all thems butt-lickin’ chickens!
Lyk wot I sez! wails Smudge.
Gunther often wonders wot life might be lyk as a fourlegs living in a sensible Bavarian town, surrounded by sensible German fourlegs.
Muttwits he mutters in disgu–
The caterpillarlegs lurches to a stop with a shudder.
It’s stopping and just sitting GitOrrf! bursts out.
Climbing out of its belly is a large hindlegs in bright clothfurs wot wobbles directly into KFC.
We stopped it noshing KFC, tho Smudge barks triumphantly.
I’m not so sure Treacle carefully eyeballs the sniffy caterpillarlegs for further signs of life Smudge, get yorself into KFC and snifz out wotz occurring
On it Smudge pulls Jemmapackmate towards KFC.
“heneedsfeeding” she scritches happily.
GitOrrf!, check out thems bins ‘round back
GitOrrf! leaps to it – more than eager to check out thems bins ‘round back – nearly lunchtime, init.
And yu, Gunther begins Treacle.
And me, Gunther Gunther shakes his earflaps zinks yor a pack of dumm ff–
“nowlookhere,Treacle,what’sallthetodo?” Sixlegs panics.
Treacle’s handle is shaking, calling him back to duty. But wot duty is that? Get Sixlegs safely to the pub for his tinkle? Or, to make sure this sniffy caterpillarlegs is stopped from noshing KFC? Only one answer. Find PD Duncan – coz only PD Duncan knows anything that’s got to do with everything.
“it’srainingcatsanddogs” Sixlegs scritches, shaking the frame “Ineedatinkle!”
That ss–settles it concludes Treacle, shaking along with his frame we need a proper butt-lickin’ pp–plan
Ya? Scoffs Gunther who’s got a full bowl of intellectuals more than most.
Yes barks Treacle loudly, wiggling earflaps to stir up the very bestest plan possible go get Duncan. Nows!
Intellectuals or not Gunther knows an order when it hits him between the earlfaps. Thrusting one paw stiff in salute he marches off towards the Thames Valley PD compound as fast as four short curly grey legs can march him, fräuleinmate in tow.
KFC. Every sniffy colour imaginable beyond the glass doors race up Smudge’s snout holes. Cooking oils in honey-coloured clouds of pure noshness. The overpowering thick salty colours of hindlegs. Orange-sniffy waves of chickens smothering Treacle’s instructions
Mental! he snifz deeply.
The hindlegs behind the counter bears its fangs in a grin“regularorspicy?“
“spicy“ Jemmapackmom scritches.
All of ‘ems, and then some
Nah, jus‘ loadsa chickens
His packfamily wobble to a window table, Smudge underneath.
Go ahead, throw ‘ems at me
His chops are ready for noshing but his brain is dimly recalling Treacle’s instructions: sniff out wotz occurring
Wotz occurring is nosh!
All of a sudden, lyk, a large sniffy hindlegs is right there in front of him.
Hello, snifz yuz smudge beams.
“hisname‘sSmudge,“ Jemmapackmate scritches.
Oi, Smudge, Smudge GitOrrf! is barking from outside, thudding his snout against the window bite that ugly chump, ‘e’s thebrains of that catterpillarlegs
“nicelittlepuppy,ain’tit?“ the large sniffy hindlegs reaches down.
Smudge, chew its fat handpaws off
Wot? Erh, righty ho–
A whopping fat spicy chicken strip is poked at his snout. Smudge does wotz expected of him. Opens chops and noshes it down.
Not that – him! thuds GitOrrf!
The large sniffy hindlegs pokes another at him.
Oh yes, yes, yes Smudge snatches it with wide chops.
Oh yes, yes, yes GitOrrf! is nows also drooling, toilet brush tail wagging, snout thudding at the window, all plans of attack forgotten.
Both fourlegs open their chops automatically.