NUTZ & BOLTZ – PART 4

“wotalovleydoggy“

Duncan is getting pummelled between his big earflaps by an assortment of ancient, purply-sniffing hindlegs.

“comeonboy,that‘sagoodboy“ PC Andersen pulls Duncan along to the next wheelchair-bound, purply-sniffing hindlegs.

Saturday.  And saturday means meets’n‘hugs at Westley Piddle’s assisted-living facility for seniors. Wot also means a total all-yu-can-nosh buffet opportunity. Seniors or elders or wotever else you want to call ‘ems, the place is packed full of purply sniffers.

“canhehaveporkpie,officer?“

Corss

“no,shouldn’treally“

Yes he can, honest Duncan lifts up his snout, chops wide open.

“lookslikeyudon’tfeedhimofficer…thereyugo!“ and a wedge of pork pie is stuffed into Duncan‘s chops. He chomps it in one, soon making room for more to follow.

Onto the next purply sniffer.

“canhehavesomething?“

“notreally“

Yes

“no“

‘undred percent, yes Duncan gently prizes a pizza wedge from an ancient handpaw.

“wotahandsomeboy,wotbigearsyu’vegotfella!“

Chocolate eclair.  Tick 

“betallthecriminalsfrightenedofhim,officer“

Dollop of spicy chicken and mayonnaise on finger bread.  Tick

“doesheknowanytricks?“

Bakewell tart. Oh well, when duty calls – tick

One of the purple sniffers is squatting in front of a black thing and banging handpaws up and down on it creating meaningless noises that tickle his earflaps.  

We’llmeetagain,don’tknowhere – don’tknowwheeeeeeen!

The sounds encourage all the purply-sniffers to come together and begin wobbling ‘round and abouts each other in slow circles – probably some sort of butt-sniffing contest for hindlegs.

but I know we’ll meet again some sun-nyyy daaay

Duncan‘s big chance. Purply-sniffers wobbling all over to strange noises, leaving nosh bowls unattended and within easy noshing range.  On chairs, upon tables, under tables, odds and sods dropped all over the shop.

Keepsmilingthrooooo – justlikeyoualwaysdooooo
Speed is of the essence.

Bowl number one, meat, cheese – all licked and cleaned

Next.

Bowl number two, chicken slices, veggies, gravy – all licked and cleaned

And the next.

Bowl number three, sausages, ah dropped some –

“Oi!Duncan“ PC Andersen scritches in a harsh whisper.

Tilltheblueskiesdrivethedarkclouds,farawaaaay

The noshfest is suddenly over.

The strange sounds stop and all thems purply-sniffers wobble back to their chairs and food bowls.  Duncan sits down on his haunches in front of thems and gives up his best famished look. As famished as a 35 kg, slick-backed, razor-sharp, sleek-as-a-velvet missile can possibly give.

“ahhhh,don’tyufeedhim,officer?“

No, he don‘t

“shameonyu,officer“

▪

By the sniff of it, the cup’n’cake is off to a good start and Mary-A is pulling lyk a good’n, dragging Smackers as hard and fast as she can towards Herdwick Pooping park.

A rolling tide of orange-sniffy action is happening all ‘round abouts thems food stalls from Westley Piddle’s motley  collection of restaurants.  Flaming woks of noodles from Fongs, next to sizzling donner from the Istanbul.  Next to  traditional British boiled sweets – Nah forget thems – and next to that: a load of grilled chicken satay from Tasty Thai.

I’ll have ten sticks please she instructs Smackers.

In answer, Smackers raises another handpaw, gloved in a thin plastic bag.

“caca,mapetitprincess“

No!

Mary-A only wants feeding. 

Nosh-poop.  Poop-nosh.  Nosh first.  Ain‘t rocket science, izit?

Mary-A snifz Henry snoutzing ‘round abouts Sammy’s Suckling Pig stall.

Right bit of lovejuice, him! Mary-A dribbles real dumb fella, but size over sense fills my nosh bowl, anyday

Snifz yu! Smudge, the Labradoodle, trots up out of nowhere, wagging his tail, the legend.

Snifz yu, too ma cherie she bumps snoutz with the curly fourlegs with the big smudge on his snout.

KFC ain’t got nothing on this, wot ya think? he pants overcome with sniffy nosh in all directions.

KFC’s a whole different planet she stops and scratches somewhere underneath but don’t ask me coz I never get walkies anywhere near it

There’s bucket loads of chickens sticks wotz at Tasty Thai

Fried?

Who cares! Under the table, init, just sitting to be noshed

There’s no time to reply.  Smackers pops and crackles her way onwards dragging Mary-A deep into Herdwick pooping park, empty plastic bag still in handpaw.

As it happens, Smackers ain‘t wobbling towards the cup’n’cake bake and thems other food stalls. No, she’s all for wobbling  in the opposite direction.

Wot! Where yu going?

“argh,englishfood,argh“ Smackers scritches heading left down the forked path that cuts right across the middle of the park towards Nelson Avenue.

This ain’t the way, Smackers

Smack, crackle and pop.

Yer going all the wrong ways yer daft cup cake!

▪

Up ahead and laying on their fat bellies is Tuffy and Giblets. Just laying there as if they own the whole dog-damn park.

Oi, wotz a nice girl lyk yu doing with a dog lyk that? sez Giblets.

That ain’t nice to say to a young lady, Gibs scolds Tuffy.

Who let yuz twos off yor leads? Mary-A wags her tail, pleased to see thems. 

They all bump snoutz.

Real fours don’t need leads, don’tcha know? Giblets stretches out legs in both directions, luxuriously burying his snout into the grass ah, life‘s too hard, init?

Not hard enough to stop and contemplate some sweet eightleggers – French style Tuffy eyeballs Mary-A up and down.  Mary-A being a very small poodle – up and down being a bit of a minimal exercise.

“ah,nastyanimeaux“  Smackers scritches, tugging Mary-A away.

Nasty is as nasty does Mary-A replies licking her snout, coz after the snifz of that stud muffin Duncan she could tolerate a soupçon of jerky leg-kicking about nows.

Tuffy is up and shaking earflaps, followed by Giblets who‘s rolling over and over until momentum sort of carries him up onto his legs.  They trott off together.

Come on then, Mary-A they bark back at her, encouraging her escape.

I’m coming! Mary-A pulls out a very special trick from her box of special tricks, wot is knowing how to twist her harness just so and decoupling it neatly from the lead wait up for me, boys

“non,non,non!“ Smackers clickity-clacks into action. Corss, the hindlegs is no match to chase Mary-A wotz already halfway across the park and chasing down thems two slabs of prime lovejuice.

Well out of Smackers‘ range Tuffy and Giblets sit on their haunches and wait for Mary-A to catch up, tongues lolling with drool to burn off Summer’s day heat.

Me first says Tuffy.

Experience before ignorence replies Giblets.

Don’t let me have to submit yu, mate

Leave off Tuffy, keep yer energy for a sweet bit of eightleggers Mary-A purrs between thems, sniffing rear ends and mooding up nicely.

Yu twos got about twenty breaths apeace before Smackers kicks the living poop out the both of y– the breath knocked out of her by the sudden weight of Giblets on top ‘round back.

Hello sweet pea he slobbers into one earflap, front paws dangling.

“non,no,non!“ scritchy warnings, getting louder.

A few breaths later.

Next! wheezes Mary-A, licking her chops.

Tuffy‘s up. His chops sniffing of fried chickens, Thai chickens, all sorts of chickens.  Before he gets too comfortable on top of Mary-A he is getting the living poop wacked out of him by Smackers – upside his head with the heavy end of Mary-A‘s retractable walkies lead.

“nonnonnon!“

Tuffy and Gibelts both scarper, butt tail and butt stub wagging respectively.

Of the two things Mary-A lyks most in the world, one is nows happily ticked off.  The other one is nosh, corss. And an opportunity presents itself.  Off lead and closer to the food stalls, she takes her one and only chance.

Chickens! she trots off as fast as her four dainty legs can trot her.

“nonnonnon!“ smackers relentlessly snaps, crackles and pops after her, empty plastic bag in handpaw.

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