Walking the mile…walking the mile Duncan turns out of the PD compound, down Southworthy Lane and into Westley Piddle High Street. He quickly marks the telephone exchange box on the corner.
“settheexample,Duncan” PC Andersen scritches reprovingly, tugging at his lead.
Right then, noshing opportunity number one!
“helloMisterJohnson” PC Andersen greets some hindlegs wotz wasting perfectly good waterlick on a shop window. The butchers! Orange-sniffy meat twitching Duncan’s snout holes.
“Hellomate,how’sitgoing?”
“notsobad,how’sthebutcherybusiness?”
The hindlegs stops his nonsense with the waterlick, pops inside his shop, and emerges with something deliciously sniffy wrapped in paper.
“Sausages,freshlymincedthismorning”
“youknowIvcannotacceptthese”
Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.
Just gimme some sausage! moans Duncan. And, corss, he gets some.
Trotting on.
Walking the mile…
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Snifz yu, Duncan
Snifz yu, Treacle They bump snoutz.
Treacle the service guide dog to Sixlegs blocks Duncan’s way. But Duncan don’t mind – after all, Treacle is a blind dog and can’t be expected to snifz wotz right in front of his snout.
Meanwhile, the two hindlegs are wasting good noshing time with their nonsense scritching. No nosh is gonna materialize from this encounter and Duncan pulls impatiently at his lead, eager to trot towards noshing op number two.
Police work – butt-lickin’ tough as ever? Treacle grunts drolly.
Pff, yu wouldn’t believe it Duncan shakes his snout in exasperation.
Nah, I wouldn’t
“looklivelyTreacle,there’sahorsytocatch” and Treacle plods on hauling Sixlegs towards the betting shop.
Community meet and greet continues.
Roger says there’s a cup’n’cake bake in the park Duncan reminds PC Andersen coz he knows hindlegs can’t think so good with such a small hooter. PC Andersen don’t pay any attention, corss.
No probs coz the sausage op is buried. Next up, turkey slices op at Subway.
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If Mary-Antoinette, known as Mary-A by the intimates, is not the most pampered fourlegs in Westley Piddle then she wants to know who in dog-damned name is?
“Oh,oh,oh,mapetitprincess” Smackers her painfully thin French hindlegs companion coos. Known as Smackers coz of her legs wot smacks, crackles and pops every time she wobbles about on thems. Smackers pulls out the grooming brush in one handpaw and pins Mary-A on her cushion, determined to uncurl those Poodle curls.
I’m a Poodle, Smackers. Poodles have uncurlable curls. Let’s get over this and move on, shall we?
“ah,trèsnoisytoday,mapetitechiot” as boney handpaws stretch out and claw the brush through curly fur.
Oof! Stoppit will yu
All Mary-A wants to do is get out and abouts and indulge in some squirting and pooping and flirtation with male fourlegs.
“arrêtez!…ve…bruuuush!”
The sniffy wind is carrying the squirt of four or five male fourlegs from nearby streets. Mary-A snifz it in.
Ah, Giblets out for his 10am trot. He’s a right player
Still sniffing she keeps pace beside Smackers who’s all crackling and popping.
Ah GitOrrf!. Forget that scruffy streetlegs. Oh, and poor Treacle, that blind and shackled animal. Forget him
Heading towards Herdwick pooping park, she scrunches up her snout.
Oh no, and not that beetch! sniffing the unmistakable female musk of Missy Biscuits.
There’s Missy Biscuits dead ahead.
Dainty poodle legs pick up the pace until she’s at ramming speed and smacking right into Missy Biscuits’ butt end.
Snifz yu, Missy Slapper
Watch it, Frogs legs the far bigger Australian Shepherd sinks her teeth into the Poodle’s earflap.
A teeth-gnashing and claw-scrabbling moment of two females rolling about on the pavement.
Don’t give it if yu can’t take it, mate snarls Missy.
Git off me, yer bouncy mouse spits Mary-A.
Their two hapless hindlegs attempt to pull thems apart. Both fourlegs nipping and scrabbling the very same moment Duncan trots into view on his meet and greet.
Keep the peace, ladies he growls softly. His brown eyeholes connecting directly with Missy Biscuits. They bump snoutz and sniff butts.
The little Poodle’s heart sinks.
Are yu twos an item, then? she asks, not really wanting to know the answer.
A wotz? Duncan lowers his handsome snout at Mary-A.
Item! she repeats coz wot yu needs is quality not quantity
Missy yawns, scratching behind an earflap and that’ll be yu, right?
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Herdwick pooping park. Wide open spaces, short springy grass, flowerbeds with soft beds for digging deep holes, great big marker posts with plenty of leaves. Dog in heaven couldn’t create a better spot for a fourlegs wot wants to bark with his mates, poop at leisure, and squirtz ‘round abouts.
Trouble is, all thems other mammals wotz wasting time in the park. Flaplegs [wasters] sqwarking up in the marker posts; scratch [total wasters] daring to be chased but sadly never caught; and hindlegs [ultimate wasters] wobbling about in their packs, sitting, scritching, trying to get rid of an odd assortment of balls, discs and sticks – wot all sensible fourlegs dutifully bring back to thems – more scritching, and never pooping, not once, ever! Wot a total waste of sensible pooping space.
Never can understand it, d’yu know wot I’m sayin‘, bruv Nutz remarks.
Disgusting if yu ask me Boltz replies prefer pooping in their housedens
Not civilized, bruv, init?
Not sensibled
Another wonderful thing about Herdwick pooping park, according to Nutz and Boltz, is the kindergarten and primary school beside the biggest area of grass. After class, hindlegs puppies of every shape and size bounce out the gates lyk their tails are on fire – ‘cept they don’t have no tails. First thing thems hindlegs puppies do is give Nutz and Boltz loads of attention. Well, Nutz anyways. Boltz being a bit more reserved, lyk.
Never get why yu don’t lyk playing with thems puppies, d’yu know wot I’m sayin‘, bruv?
I do! Boltz replies indignantly
Nah, reckon yor stunting, bruv
Ain’t afraid, mate, just ain’t a showoff mumpter, lyk wot yu are
Scritching in delight, a pack of hindlegs puppies bounce towards the two Jack Russels.
Get some Nutz is immediately running ‘round in circles, chasing thems get some rolling on his back, all fours in the air and enjoying a good tickling ge-eeet some!
OldSchool sits on a park bench slurping at his Costa and eyeballing the two Jack Russells playing with all the little kids from kindergarten.
Boltz, wotz more selective, only plays with certain puppies – the ones that sniff right. Ones that sniff sad. Maybe coz he’s reserved, or maybe coz he only wants to play with puppies that truly need a bit of fun. Such as Tommylegs. Boltz’ snout and earflaps are always on the alert for Tommylegs. He sits on his haunches patiently waiting for him to appear on his sniff radar.
Get some! Nutz is still dashing ‘round abouts making a mumpter of himself.
Boltz waits.
Tommylegs! he barks a greeting as soon as the little hindlegs puppy is bouncing about within sniffing range over here mate. MATE!
Tommylegs let’s go his mom’s handpaw and wobbles over to Boltz, falling to his knees and rolling the little fourlegs over and over in the grass.
“helloMisterAbbot, thosekidsloveyourdogs”
‘makesmehappytoseeit,MissusO’brien”
OldSchool enjoys his morning scritch with other hindlegs. OldSchool yellow-sniffy happy makes Nutz and Boltz happy, too.
“doyoumissbeingateacherthen,MisterAbbot?”
“sometimes”
“and,didn’tyouteachatthisveryschool?”
“Idid”
Watch this Tommy Boltz trots a few steps and makes a gravity-defying backflip. He lands perfectly on all fours. He performs it again and again until Tommy’s snifz become pure yellow happiness.
“moremoremore” Tommylegs scritches.
Yu got that backflip well dropped, bruv as Nutz runs straight at the Thameslick but get soma this! Leaping high into the air.
Splash!
Paddling ‘round and ‘round in circles making hindlegs puppies scritch uncontrollably.
“livesuptohisname,thatone”
“wotNutz?hedoes,too”
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USUAL MUTTWITS 