GitOrrf! mein hund, stop yapping and get over here
Wotz the plan, then? GitOrrf! bounds over to Gunther.
Fours…lots of fours
Nothing happens. No fours trotting in from anywheres. Both fourlegs eyeball up and down both ends of the High Road. Not one muttwit in sight.
And then, out of nowhere, muttwits are popping up from everywhere – trotting straight towards Gunther. He stands foursquare outside Colonial Saunders. Fourlegs of all shapes and sizes, some dragging along their hindlegs packmates, the streetlegs dragging along their plum bobs, only. All panting and wagging tails and stubs, ready for a rumble. More muttwits than toes on four paws, lyk.
Snif yuz all Gunther barks, standing tall before thems earflaps up and listen, fall in behind me and make some solid legs between KFC and zat Norscot Caterpillar 320D Hydraulic Excavator
That wotz? a load of fourlegs bark back.
That big bitch wotz noshing thems chickens Gibblets points his snout.
And then wot? GitOrrf! cries aloud.
Gotta nosh us up first before it can nosh KFC, ya Gunther barks louder than he’s ever barked.
GitOrrf! cocks his head to one side. Then all fourlegs cock earflaps at each other. Even Smudge sitting unseen under a KFC table and still noshing up chicken strips cocks his earflaps.
And thatz the plan? some muttwit barks up.
Any yuz dummwits gotta better plan? demands Gunther.
Erh…how about a plan where we dont get noshed? another muttwit asks, a touch embarrassed.
Do yu want to save zems chickens or not? demands Gunther, again.
Corss all the fours shake earflaps in agreement.
And for afters, lunch ‘round back of bins rallies Gitorrf!, thinking of his belly.
Nows, that’s a dog-damn real plan! they all bark, spurred on towards making the ultimate sacrifice.
“vatalotofdoggies” fräuleinmate scritches in amazement.
No rush, yuz butt-lickin‘ muttwits Treacle barks at thems all, caterpillarlegs almost on him in yor own time
“isthatchicken?Treacle?“ Sixlegs is twitching his small hooter.
Ve’re coming Treacle growls Gunther, pulling fräuleinmate and the whole pack of fourlegs with him. They tumble to a stop ‘round abouts Treacle, facing the threat. Teeth bared and growling most horribly.
The Norscot Caterpillar 320D Hydraulic Excavator lifts its great yellow clawpaw above their collective earflaps, purply-sniffy diesel fumes belching from its bu–
Hold fast Gunther barks at all the usual muttwits.
Food bowls for all they roar back.
Come on then yuz big ugly muttwit Treacle taunts the ugly face of death give it some
Blind but brave Gitorrf! shakes his scruffy body in admiration.
Gears engage with a heavy clunk, more diesel fumes belch and the Norscot Caterpillar 320D Hydraulic Excavator is right on top of thems.
Stand fast, boss
“wha?” Sixlegs shakes his frame.
For zems tasty chickens Gunther barks, bouncing up and down.
“crazy,crazydoggy“ fräuleinmate is scritching.
And all thems bins ‘round back Giblets is thrusting forward, baring fangs.
For Mouse GitOrrf! is yelping in terror but keeping the line and, erh, Smudge
Shut yer earflaps, boss Treacle encourages Sixlegs, bracing for the worst chewing ever. He closes his eyeballs – for both of them.
For KFC! For KFC! all fourlegs chorus, eyeballs wide, earflaps flattened against their heads.
The Norscot Caterpillar 320D Hydraulic Excavator lurches to a stop.
“Oi,youlot“ the hindlegs wobbles out the caterpillarlegs “nearlyranyouidiotsover!“
And with that he wobbles back inside and slams shut the door. With a thunk of gears and a screech of caterpillar legs, the Norscot Caterpillar 320D Hydraulic Excavator slowly starts moving. Backwards!
Treacles opens his eyeballs.
Und das ist a right sniffy Norscot Caterpillar 320D Hydraulic Excavator Gunther sprints forward and spritzens on it triumphantly.
Wet snoutz of all the fourlegs follow it lumbering away into the distance and back up the High Street.
We saved thems chickens GitOrrf! barks happily now let’s go nosh ’ems ‘round back
Chicken strips finished, Smudge pulls at Jemmapackmate to go stand outside KFC who said chickens? he yaps,wondering wot all the excitement is about.
Four squirtz later and Treacle is home with Sixlegs.
“terribleday,Treacle“ Sixlegs scritches
Gotta go, boss
But Treacle is already hard at it noshing Pedigree duck and chicken livers in the kitchen. All the while dreaming between earflaps of guide dogging Sixlegs into heavy traffic on a motorway.
Next time he promises himself, licking his bowl round and round next butt-lickin‘ time
As the hot ball in the sky falls down and daylight fades, the fourlegs across Westley Piddle bark some right sensible opinions and intellectuals –
Smashed that sniffy caterpillarlegs
Sick mate, totally sick.
Ah, snifz that, garbage truck’s arrived at Tesco Extra five bins
▪ ▪ ▪
We have arrived at the end of BOOK 1! We will continue with BOOK 2 next week, featuring ThreeLegs. Snifz yuz!