NUTZ & BOLTZ – PART 6

At that moment a horrendous scritching pricks the earflaps of all fourlegs across Herdwick pooping park.

“where’sTommy,where’smyTommy“ Tommylegs packmom is scritching“TOM-EEEEE!“

To the absolute bemusement of Giblets and Tuffy, the scritching packmom is wobbling ‘round abouts in circles, handpaws waving up and down lyk a flaplegs.

Woaa, can hindlegs fly? Giblet stops scratching plum bobs and hoping against hope to witness a scritching hindlegs flap into the sky and right out of Herdwick pooping park.

Corss they can Tuffy’s muffled grunt answers from between his own legs.

“Tommy,Tommy,whereareyu,mate?“

Even OldSchool is in on the action, wobbling ‘round abouts with Tommy’s packmom, eyeballing under park benches and inside rubbish bins.

Wotz the ag? Nutz pulls his snout out the bin liner, smeared with nosh.

Tommyleg’s gone missing pants Boltz in shock.

No, he ain’t, bruv Nutz explains patiently he’s scritching with that same hindlegs wot needs his plum bobs gnawed off preparing to stick his snout back into the bin liner.

Bruv, we gotta do something

Lyk wot?

Lyk, right nows

Wot abouts thems hard core bredren?

Boltz ain’t listening.  He’s already trotting as fast as his little legs can trot to save Tommylegs.

A last whistful sniff at the bin liner and Nutz is chasing after his brother.

Tommy, don’t yu do it Boltz barks loud as he can.

Coz Tommylegs little handpaw is already inside the hindleg’s big handpaw, wobbling him fast towards an open door of the roundlegs. 

Boltz barrels straight into one solid leg of the hindlegs, small sharp teeth clamping tight onto his very blue purply-sniffy ankle.

Yuz ain’t taking him nowheres he shakes with all his strength, arching his back and digging in rear paws.

“Youagain,getooorf,yerlittlebugga“ the hindlegs violently shakes Boltz off so he flies through the air. Boltz thinks he’s become a flaplegs before his head hits the ground with a thump.

Not gonna ‘llow that, he’s family Nutz howls joining the fight and snapping at the same sniffy ankle. A quick shake and he‘s also tossed aside onto the grass – far too fast for any thoughts of flaplegs to start flapping.

Want some beef then bring it on yu barking pagan Nutz jumps up, getting back into the fight with this nasty hindlegs wot obvs needs his plum bobs gnawed off.

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Tommylegs packmom is nows on the scene, OldSchool huffing and puffing it in from a distance.  Packmom’s got one handpaw pulling Tommylegs from the backseat of the roundlegs and the other handpaw slapping the big hindlegs ‘round abouts his chops.

“nonsensenonsnesnonsence“ she scritches ever louder, red-sniffy ferocity steaming off her.

Tuffy and Giblets watch the fight developing.

Wanna get involved?  aks Tuffy, laying on his belly, grass tickling his snout better than scratching plum bobs

Any nosh involved? replies Giblets, actually quite content scratching plum bobs.

Don’t snifz it – nah

Any six teets involved?

Don‘t snifz it – nah

Better to sort plum bobs scratching, init

Sounds lyk a plan

Duncan is enjoying his first official police nosh break of this pitiful day when PC Andersen jerks the Dobermann’s snout out of his bowl.

Aw ff – nows wot?

Duncan follows PC Andersen’s raised handpaw and quickly snifz an incident in progress. One adult male hindlegs suspect in altercation with one adult female hindlegs > Adult male hindlegs suspect forcing one [presumed] child male hindlegs into the back of a roundlegs > Adult male hindlegs suspect also kicking the poop out of two small male fourlegs > two small male fourlegs being identified as Nutz and Boltz.

Corss, would be thems muttwits wouldn’t it?

However, there’s no denying wot his snoutz telling him. That male suspect hindlegs snifz is bad. PC Andersen’s sniffing ready to wobble over to the scene fast he can wobble. Trouble is the fight’s right the other side of Herdwick park. PC Andersen’s never gonna wobble over in time.

I’m on it! Duncan leaps up straining at the lead.

“Duncan,goboy“ PC Andersen unleashes him “Duncan,STOPHIM“ 

And Duncan is away.

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Faster than the sniffy wind, slipping between packmoms and packdads, Duncan zeroes in, missle-fast and silent across Herdwick pooping park towards adult male hindlegs suspect faster than Mary-Afaster than Mary-A.

This is wot he’s trained to do. Stop. Neutralise. Apprehend. And nosh whenever opportunity arises. But right nows he is PD Duncan, and he is the law.

CHOMP!

“whoooaaaa! Wotthefff“ adult male hindlegs suspect scritches in panic as Duncan slams into him hard AF.  His big teeth clamping down on hindlegs handpaw shaking his muscular neck this way and that and dragging adult male hindlegs suspect into the dirt. 

Stop! Stop! Stop! Duncan barks like a handgun. Standing over the hindlegs, big chops keeping the suspect pinned down until PC Andersen finally wobbles over – huffing and puffing, heart pumping loudly in Duncan’s earflaps.

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The adult male hindlegs suspect is now pressed against his own roundlegs by PC Andersen, Duncan sitting on guard quiet and alert for further trouble.  Tommylegs is safely wrapped in his packmom’s handpaws.  Hindlegs are wobbling all over and scritching at one another in sniffy excitement.

“nonsensenonsensenonsense“ Tommy packmom is scritching.

“nonsensenonsensenonsense“ adult male hindlegs suspect is scritching back.

Wotz he yapping on about? enquires Boltz.

That he’s the puppy’s packdad explains Duncan.

“nonsensenonsensenonsense“

“nonsensenonsensenonsense“

..wotz got every right to see his pup whenever he wants, so he sez continues Duncan.

Ooo! exclaim Nutz and Boltz together.

..PC Andersen’s now scritching to Roger in his handpaw….and Roger is sending a wailing roundlegs to take adult male hindlegs suspect away

Hmmm!

Who‘s Roger? asks Nutz.

Dunno, but PC Andersen always does wotevs Roger tells him

Clever stuff muses Boltz Roger‘s gotta be a fourlegs, init?

Invisible, know wot I’m sayin‘ bruv agrees Nutz, knowing full well that only a fourlegs can sort out the mess hindlegs leave behind ‘ems.

Fourlegs hear the wailing roundlegs one long squirt before the hindlegs prick up their own small earflaps.  They eyeball it wailing into the park, growling over grass wotz only good for pooping, and stopping beside PC Andersen.

Shows over, folks Duncan sez to Nutz and Boltz and, well done yu twos

Yu can take the fight outta the fours but yu can’t take the fours outta the fight exclaims Nutz,.

Yu know wot I think, cuz? sez Boltz, happily watching Tommylegs being led away by his packmom

Do tell Duncan lowers his head, snout to snout, with Boltz.

For a Fed, yor alright

On queue, the scratchy clouds let drop a right load of rainlick onto Westley Piddle’s cup’n’cake bake.

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All hail, the conquering muttwit Shadow scoffs as Duncan trots into his cage and the door clicks shut behind him.

Heard yu slipped yer leash Dunks quips Jax, snout pressing through his cage.

Policework, Dobermann style! Nows where’s me nosh? I’m starving

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As it happens, back in Mary-A’s housden, a lot of uneccessary ag is going down.

“fornicatingwithpeasants,onthegrass–très imposseeble….“ scritches Smackers

“eatinglambs,onsticks,fromplasticbeen–imposseeble“ waving handpaws with a lot of clicking and clacking.

Scritchy, scritchy, scritch Mary-A settles down on her blanket in front of the radiator shuddup, yer boring!

Snout on carpet she contemplates nosh, the after-itch of two hefty fourlegs, and sniffing Duncan in particular, corss.

She then remembers the snifz of Missy Biscuits yu ain’t gonna stay an item much longer she mutters a promise to Duncan quality over quantity is wot yu needs… shutting her eyeballs and slipping into a chasing dream.

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“wellimpressed,boys“ OldSchool is frying Canadian “wellimpressedwithyoutwo,today“

OldSchool hands down one rasher to Nutz and another one to Boltz – fast, before Nutz can grab it.

Instead of chomping it down in one, Nutz is so impressed by Mary-A’s eating habits that he also tries eating it upside down.  Jumping up, biting, turning his head to the ground, and nose-diving into the carpet.

Thunk!

Nah, can’t do it, d’yu know wot I’m sayin‘, bruv?

Boltz chomps down the Canadian, followed by his signature backflip presto!

How’s the Canadian that way up, bruv? wonders Nutz, well-impressed.

Boltz looks fondly at his brother OldScool, givvus another Canadian another backflip noshes even better this way bruv!

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So sez Giblets, head still buried between hind paws do thems hindlegs fly, or not?

Wot a muttwit! Tuffy scoffs, voice muffled by nibbling between plum bobs corss they do!

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