It’s Thursday and time for Sue Vincent’s #writepho, which I have to say, I am delighted to see back again this week.
It has been suggested that Sue use the ‘Mister Linky’ widget rather than having to create a full round-up list every week… which is a good thing as her treatments and hospital appointments tend to be on Thursdays…
Sue asks as an experiment, would we mind clicking the green Mr Linky logo on her page, by entering our name and link to our post then clicking the box to accept the privacy policy, then press enter… we can save her a lot of work.
When you click, it should look like this screenshot, but empty and ready for you to fill in:
***********
For visually challenged writers, theimage shows the black silhouette of a crow perched atop a blackened and dead-looking tree. In the background the sky is blue and the trees are decked in the full green leaf of summer…
This week’s prompt ~ Appointed.
“Hey Crow what are you doing up there?” asked the small dog with the wagging tail. The crow, though , startled did not move at once. Taking a deep breath he pretended to look off into the distance.
“What are you doing up there, and why is that tree all black and dead like winter looking”. ….. “Go away hissed the crow” trying to retain a semblance of nonshalance. But the small dog would not go away, and the small dog would not be quiet, she was an inquisitive dog.
Crow looked to the horizon taking in the blue sky and fluffy clouds and sighed… All this is wrong he thought, the tree was the only thing that was right…..black and dead. The rest of the surroundings were to bright and that awful word …pretty.
The small dog kept asking questions in a loud bark! Crow just ignored her and wondered why she would not go. The worrying thing was he was on a completely different plane of existence to this small dog and they should not see eachother at all.
Suddenly a woman arrived over the brow of the hill, “Hey Girly” she called “what are you barking about.” After catching her breath she continued. “Ah! I see it’s a crow, hello Mr Crow how are you today”
“Bloody confused ” muttered the crow. The woman laughed, “A confused corvid sitting in a dead tree, well done Girly you’ve found it” “Found what?” asked the small dog.
The woman smiled and hugged the small dog. “The title of my next book, The well appointed crow” she smiled.
The crow clicked his beak and said “but you can’t see me I am not in your time”
Even better said the woman “The well appointed crow who wasn’t there!” She laughed again and the small dog barked. The crow said no more.
Scroggy? Redbone Coonhound init! Fred sez it’s a real steal – erh, catch, for such a rare and contenshosh breed. And we’re gonna make a sheep dog outta it soon enough. The genuine articools.
Watcha mean Coonhound’s a hunting doggy? Hunting, Sheeping, all the same init! And no one knows more about doggies than me and Freddy. We’ll take yer domestic dog, yer street dog, yer – Nah, not take. Didn’t mean to imply…more like appropriate, erh…and, erh, Fred says “Terry go round up some mammals with sheepdog potenshals”. Yu’d be amazed how many mutts ‘round abouts West Pid have them potenshals…um…
Vexed, I’m very vexed ThreeLegs considers his state of mind, that place where all thoughts of noshing, eightleggers and sniffing live in a perpetual mush between the earflaps. And thinking about noshing, Threelegs’ belly reminds him he’s missing out on his brekkers at Freddy’s Farm. Bacon, well done scraps of bacon, anyways. Toast, the crusts. Sausage – burnt to perfection – and a touch of healthy kicking or a sudden wack out of nowhere from Freddy with his big stick. He is panting fast, tongue lolling. Thinking of home, starting to miss it all.
Ahh wails Threelegs, feeling lonesome I’m undeserving of such heinous exile from me pater famillias?
The orange sniff of nosh makes his snout holes flick and bubble with hunger.
Just down the street is Greggs. He can sniff the special of the day, two sausage, scrambled eggs and baked beans. Just the ticket!
But he’s reluctant to leave the PD compound.
Westley Piddle is a small town but ThreeLegs has hardly ever been here, ‘cept for whisking doggies, so is rightfully wary of the other fourlegs he can sniff all out and abouts. More warily, who can he call his bowls mates, his real snifz-friends nows that he’s all alones?
Ronovan says : You may, if you wish, make some kind of link between the Haiku Challenge prompt of (CURL and Paw). and this Décima Challenge of KNOCK in the A rhyme line. This means you could write a haiku post using the prompt words. Then do a Décima post using this week’s prompt uniting the two with a common message.
The 2 CHALLENGES are SEPARATE but CANBEcombined if YOU CHOOSE to do so.
Gently she gives my elbow a knock. Her eyes full of love “I need you” I smile back needing her too. She is my foundation and rock. Tells the time better than a clock. When I’m well she’s out running free When I’m not well she clings to me Somehow she knows just what to do. She’ll always guide me good and true. Ruby is my lifesaving prop.
“Ican’tsee,Ican’tsee” scritches Squeezy. Two muttwits, all earflaps and furry bodies, obscuring the High Street, handlebars, all else “Ican’tcontrol–“
Paddles is in a state of shock snifz yu–
Don’t move! barks Bananas
..Kama, Karma, Karmaaa…
Wot yu doing? Squeezy’s gotta squeeze the handlebars Paddles can’t eyeball anything neither, the little Pug being all wrapped ‘round his large snout.
“arhhhh!” Squeezy scritches, trying to move her handpaw from the control but stuck under the weight of both fourlegs.
Don’t move Bananas yaps into Paddle’s thick earflap until…
The mowta whizzes down the High Street, completely out of control, flashing past Tuffy and GitOrrf! in a blur of sniffy fourlegs, whinny skinny roundlegs and Kama, Karmaaa…
Woaa, is that Paddles hanging off the front? wonders GitOrrf!
Nah, mate Tuffy corrects, bit of a sausage hanging from chops just a cool Bananas, init!
At a speed never intended for the mowta, all control is lost, thanks to thems pink and yellow fluffy lumps preventing Squeezy from doing wot she needs to do with handpaws on handlebars. The entrance to Herdwick pooping park rushing up to meet thems.
Jump! yelps Bananas.
Wot?
Jump, yer fluffy muttwit and both fourlegs bail out, leaving Squeezy with a perfect view of the pooping park gates sweeping by either side. Loss of weight – coz Paddles is a right heavy four – causes the mowta to yaw this way and that, throwing the accordion high into the air. It crashes down in a squeezy, wheezy whine onto the grass, right beside Nutz.
Erh, snifz yu he barks at the wheezing thing.
Outside Costa, wotz actually nicely placed inside Herdwick pooping park, Squeezy almost manages to get the mowta under control before it gently crunches into a table and umbrella. The umbrella tips over and drapes Squeezy in bold Costa logos.
..if your colours were lyk my dreams…red, go–
Boy George cuts out. Squeezy struggles from under Costa logos and emerges into daylight.
“sorry,MissusLavinka” Arjom scritches, wobbling up to help her off the mowta.
“sorry,MissusLavinka” Oskar scritches, the legless, furless dumb scratch held in both handpaws.
Snifz yu barks Nutz at the accordion
Flaplegs, init adds Boltz, unfazed by an accordion flying into the park and landing on the grass right before his paws.
Yeah, yor right Nutz gives it one final snifz and I think it’s a gonna,d’yu know wot I’m sayin‘, bruv?
▪
Usual same old, same old.
Lavinka gets Paddles ready for his guest appearance to the paying masses in the big city. She combs his fur over and over until static makes it stand on end in a blob of electric fuzz. She ties a Union Jack bandana ‘round his big head and completes the look with the gold-tinted aviators.
‘cept that, instead of the same old neon pink fuzz, Paddles is now cream coloured. Natural Chow Chow cream coloured.
“thereweare,mypatriotic,puffy-liondoggy” she takes his big furry snout between both handpaws and plonks a kiss on the tip of his black snout, all TLC.
Trouble is, Paddles don’t appreciate all the fuss. Coz all night long, Squeezy’s been washing all that pink out of him in the bath. He snifz of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.
He wants to snifz his brekkers – but can’t.
Brekkers ain’t brekkers if yu don’t snifz it proper
That’s not gonna happen for a few days yet, not til his natural oils restore him to the handsome Chow Chow lyk wot he normally is.
And off they whine, on the mowta, towards West Pid. town center.
Dessert loving in your eyes all the waaay
They reach the corner of the Vape Shop at the top of the High Street.
“sitstillandbehave,thistime” Squeezy slowly whines the mowta down the pavement.
Me, behave. Me?
“fourmilesperhour” Squeezy scritches and don’t dare go one MPH faster.
Two streetlegs regulars watch thems trundle past.
Sharp as a pin, wot yuz are barks Tuffy to Paddles as he crawls by.
How can a fluffy four be sharp as a pin, One Ear? quizzes GitOrrf! between chomps of Greggs best brekkers bacon butty.
Tuffy, also known by the intimates as One Ear, sighs at his streetlegs mate don’t yu know nothink?
Sure, I know nothink GitOrrf! replies, a bit affronted by such snouty behaviour before a proper brekkers knows everything there is to know about nothink, init? not wanting to appear without intellectuals in front of Tuffy nothink I don’t knows about nothink!
The two streetlegs eyeballs the mowta whine down the High Street and slowly turn into Short Cut.
Let’s go ask Paddles sez Tuffy and see if he knows anything about nothink and off they trot. GitOrrf! carrying a sausage roll wot Paddles was promised – whenever.
▪
Bananas ain’t getting any peanut butter today – or any other day, judging by all the scritching going on. She takes shelter under the kitchen table.
“could’vehurtsomeone,withthatstunt” packmom scritches at her hindlegs pups, slamming brekkers on the table.
“don’twannawalkthedog” scritches Liisa, stomping her footpaw right beside the Pug’s earflap
Nah, corss yu do
“don’tevenlikedogs” scritches Liisa, stamping her footpaw again.
Yah, corss yu do
“that’stherules,orthedoggoes”
Lol!
▪
Outside, on Drakefield Road as it happens, Liisa wobbles along with her brothers and it takes no more than one short squirtz before [rule # one] Bananas is off the lead.
Oi, cool Bananas!
Snifz yu, Giblets
And [rule # two] Bananasis near other animals – wot that saucy muttwit Giblets is, anyways.
Squeezy squiiiz, squeezy, squiiiz the accordion stretches this way and that. Paddles sits on his tartan blanket, wearing his Union Jack bib and gold-tinted specs.
To me – not at me! he barks at pedestrians throwing little metal bits – wotz being thrown more than normal.
Snifz yu, Paddles yaps Bananas, standing in front of him, her doughnut-curled tail wagging cheerily.
Yeah, right he grunts back, refusing to eyeball her.
Yor not pink, anymore Bananas snifz at him yor normal, nows
Squeezy squiiiz, squeezy, squiiiz
Yeah, thanks for that Bananas – or should I bark ‘cool’ Bananas – wot fourlegs are calling yuz for saving the mowta, wot don’t need saving
Sure thing, anytime
Right! And thanks for getting rid of the pink furs, wot don’t need unpinking
Corss, at yor service
Yeah, and biggest thanks is reserved for ‘thems’ Paddles stands up and sticks his big, natural-coloured fluffy butt into Bananas flat snout THEMS! giving it the aggressive wot don’t need glittering!
From beneath his natural cream coloured coat emerge a small yet solid pair of furry plum bobs – all lovingly spray-painted in red, white and blue glitter.
Yeah thems. Thanks a bundle Paddles barks cheerlessly. Another metal bit is thrown at him, bouncing off his butt and landing on the tartan blanket.
“bringinginthemoneeey” Squeezy sing-song scritches, squeezing her accordion.
Originally posted on Usual Muttwits, so good it had to be shared!
THREELEGS – PART 3
One! announces ThreeLegs, eyeballing Βία up and down and all overs before lurching on.
Two! he starts along the cages, carefully counting off three…and four… until he reaches number five. He stops, checking the five toes of his one front paw, glances back at the cages to reconfirm the tally and lurches on. By the time he’s done counting up to fifteen toes on all three paws he stops again, scratching contemplatively at a tic at the stump where his fourth leg should be hanging.
Right then…one! he starts over, counting off his front paws. Etcetera.
Hobbling to the end of the barn, counting off his toes, resetting everytime he reaches the end of three paws. Finally to arrive back at the starting point.
Fifteen he concludes. A grand total of three paws worth of guests.
Wot a muttwit Βία grins.
ThreeLegs bangs his head against her bars that’s not nice
Yor not nice her hackles up, grin curling into snarl.
Before ThreeLegs gets ‘round to defending his important ledgerings an unmistakable sniffy-red pervades the barn, a colour darker than the night outside.
“what’sallthisnoise,then?” scritches Freddy.
Just doin’ the ledgerings, yor honours whines ThreeLegs before receiving a lusty kick aimed at his head. ThreeLegs’ three legs back him out of range in the nick of time.
Freddy pokes his eyeballs all ‘round abouts the barn before they stop at Scroggy.
“purple,orpink,orgreen,or-“ Squeezy is scritching to herself “or…” she stops the motor unexpectedly and Paddles is nearly thrown over the handlebars “red,whiteandblue,yes!YES!”
Wot? Paddles turns his head and gives her the eyeball.
“ohPaddles,whataluckydoggy” she rubs his shaggy head “verypatriotic,veryBritish,veryglitterspray”
Paddles definitely don’t lyk the sound of this, his black tongue hanging from his chops in consternation.
Erh, wot? he grunts again, nows feeling tight down under.
“UnionandJack,ofcourse” Squeezy scritches in delight
“thinkofallthemoney-frompatrioticBrexiteers!”
Paddle’s got no idea who Union and Jack are and can’t snifz thems anywheres, but he sure knows where Squeezy wants to start glitter spraying. Right on his no go area – no go for anyone except him. Wot often takes some finding coz of all thems Chow Chow butt furs in between, that is.
Before he can start complaining the mowta whines into the drive thru area of Mackers. All thoughts of patriotic plumb bobs, Union and Jack are instantly forgotten in the noshing moment.
Big Mac, extra-large, corss, plus upsize fries he barks and don’t go easy on the cheese
Wot he actually gets is chicken niblets. He chomps his way through most of thems before the mowta whines out of the drive-thru.
“tomorrow,unionandjack” Squeezy scritches a promise ruffling Paddle’s earflaps “tomorrow,Ipromise”
▪
As it happens, Bananas is a very practical fourlegs. Being a Pug, wotz a bit flat in the black snout and a bit short in the yellow four legs, she appreciates that she can’t submit the mowta all by herself. Wot she needs is Paddle’s help, too.
Such thoughts are bouncing ‘round between her black earflaps the next morning – snifz of colourful ideas wotz only goal is to help out Paddles and stop thems plum bobs from getting glittered. She don’t know how, but she sure knows the mowta’s the problem and the solution, all mixed up in the same nosh bowl. There’s gotta be a way.
Meanwhile Oskar’s got his handpaws in the peanut butter, again. And he ain’t giving any to Bananas.
Wot about yor four-legged friend? she yaps at him.
The hindlegs pup sticks a sticky handpaw at her snout and she starts licking at it.
That’s the spirit
Nows, everyone knows that peanut butter is not good for fourlegs – coz there ain’t never enough of the stuff. Not for hindlegs nor fourlegs. But wot there is must be shared.
Oskar puts the jar on the floor under the table where Oskar’s packmom won’t eyeball it. Together they stick handpaws and fourlegs’ paws into the same jar, jostling for room to get at the sniffy nosh. Bananas, being quicker, gets both front paws into the jar, wedging herself tight, preventing Oskar–
Ahh the solution to the mowta problem that’s it!
We need to get out and abouts she starts yapping soon as the peanut butter’s all licked and sorted.
Oskar, who’s waiting his second brekkers – his first brekkers being gobs of peanut butter under the kitchen table – ain’t going along with that.
“afterbreakfast” he scritches, coz small hindlegs pups know exactly wot small fourlegs are yapping on abouts.
Don’t think so Oskar, we gotta go save some plum bobs before they go unsavable
“afterbreakfast”
Funny thing is, today is Arjom’s football practice. He wobbles out of his bedroom wearing his footers and leaving dried muddy flakes everywhere.
“hurryup,Oskar” he scritches at his brother.
Sitting room door opens and out wobbles packmom “whatdidIsay?Nobootsinthehouse!” and immediately eyeballs Oskar and Bananas under the kitchen table. Luckily the jar is hidden. But ain’t nothing hidden about the great big dollop of peanut butter stuck on the end of Bananas flat snout.
“rightthen” in that low-sounding packmom scritch wot everyone knows means trouble “onyourcushion,you” she scoops up Bananas and dunks him onto his favorite cushion, none too gently. Wot also reveals the empty peanut butter jar under the table.
Hold on a tic – ain’t me, were him eyeballing Oskar, the accused snifz out his handpaws, go on, snifz ‘ems!
▪
At the football ground laters, a small bit of Herdwick pooping park wotz cordoned off and completely free of poop, Bananas sits on the grass with Oskar carefully sniffing at a pack of hindlegs pups wobbling about and having too much fun. Between thems a small scratch is being kicked all over the place – which is only right, coz all scratch need a good kicking. ‘cept this scratch is round, don’t have no legs or fur, and only snifz of grass. But it’s definitely a scratch coz it’s dumb as any other scratch – wotz got all its legs and fur.
“gooooooal!” scritches Arjom, but misses – coz the scratch is too dumb to roll where it’s supposed to roll.
Beyond the poopless grass, Bananas keeps her flat snout sniffing towards the direction of Short Cut. Her eyeballs see everything hazy – coz fourlegs are a bit shortsighted – but her snout makes all thems sniffy colours stand out crystal clear. Her chops start watering from thems orange-sniffy colours of the nosh shops in the High Street, wotz a good enough reason to trot over there right now – especially as she’s missed brekkers. But today she’s waiting for a very particular snifz and thems scritchy sounds of Boy George.
▪
..if I listen to yor lies, would yu saaay…I’m a man without conviiiction…
Squeezy mowtas out of Hazlehurst Road and whines towards Short Cut. Paddles in front, taking most of the space – massive pink and fluffy. Squeezy can hardly get her handpaws ‘round his fat furry butt to work the controls.
“ouf,Paddles,youbiglump” Squeezy scritches, eyeballing the pavement ahead between his thick furry earflaps.
Yeah right, sez she Paddles pants, little black tongue lolling and enjoying the rush of air wotz cooling him nicely.
..how to sale a contradiiiction…
The whiny mowta steers towards the High Street.
“today’stheday” Squeezy in a sing-song scritching “theBritishgetheirpatriotics – andPaddlesgetshisglitter!”
Squeezy sing-songs a lot of poop and he ain’t got no clue wot she’s scritching on abouts most of the time. But today, right nows, he certainly understands all the sing-song and wotz behind it.
Wotz underneath it and behind it, to be specifical
“red,whiteandblue” Squeezy carries on, sniffing too dog-damn happy for Paddles’ liking.
As Hazlehurst Road reaches the corner of the High Street, it starts to dips down towards Herdwick pooping park at the other end. Beyond that is the sniffy Thameslick, just sitting there.
Wotz often forgotten is that Westly Piddle High Street is on a shallow hill – but not too shallow. Squeezy, being a bit of a show-off with her flashy mowta, neon pink Chow Chow, and Boy George vibes,
lyks to advertise to the whole town of pedestrians that she’s coming down the hill to busk to ‘ems. And so, Squeezy squeezes her little handlebar and speeds up.
“weeeez” she scritches in delight as they hit the top of the High Street.
Weeeez barks Paddles, forgetting the future of his plum bobs in all the heres and nows.
▪
Bananas ain’t forgetting, however.
Without further ado she’s up and trotting right across the poopless grass – wot she’s not allowed to – trotting between all the hindlegs pups – pausing for a little squirtz over the legless, furless scratch, wot it rightly deserves for being so round and dumb, lyk – and trots towards the exit of Herdwick pooping park and the High Street, beyond.
Wotz the rush, Bananas? Nutz and Boltz trot up to bump snoutz snifz y– but Bananas don’t stop for such polite affiliations.
No time, fellas, got an appointment with destiny she races on, leaving the Jack Russell brothers sniffing at a butt that ain’t there.
By the corner of the vape shop, where the pavement widens out for all thems nosh shops’ chairs and tables, Squeezy squeezes harder and the mowta starts picking up speed.
..loving would be eeeasy if your colours were lyk my dreeeams…
Coz the pavement is well paved and even, the skinny roundlegs on the mowta spin faster and the breeze blows stronger, sweeping back all the fluff from Paddle’s snout – turning him into a pink Chewbacca – ‘cept without the big teeth.
“sixmilesperhour!” scritches Squeezy “weeeez”
Weeeez barks Paddles.
Bananas paws are tiny and her short body makes trotting real tongue-wagging work.
But there ain’t nothing for it ‘cept to press onwards and upwards, weaving in and out of hindlegs, lampposts, and ducking under tables wot get inconveniently in the way. The scritchy strains of Boy George getting louder all the time.
Tuffy and GitOrff! are hanging about outside Greggs, contemplating the regular brekkers menu wafting out the door in a wonderful orange snifz.
Is that a bird, is that a plane?
chuckles Tuffy, eyeballing the Pug shooting up the High Street or is it a banana?
Nah, mate, that’s a doggy on a charge GitOrrf! marvels, fried sausage and bacon momentarily forgotten as Bananas trots right past without so much as a snifz yuz muttwits grunt.
Down, down they fly. The mowta not far short of warp speed.
..and you used to be so sweet I heard you saaay…aay
They rush past Oxfam, the sour sniffy colours gone before Paddles can even appreciate thems. His eyeballs are watering and he’s feeling all giddy.
This is the life, init? he howls, caught up in the rush.
Banana’s never trotted so dog-damned hard in her life, paws burning, tongue whipping all over her flat snout, spraying goo every which way. And the mowta is nows directly ahead, growing enormous.
Paaaadles, I’m comiiiing!
..when we cliiing, our love is stro-oong…
“ninemile-OUTTHEWAY!” Squeezy scritches at the Pug, panic slamming in, fate and destiny right in front of the speeding Mowta “OUTTHE–“
Weeeez–Bananas? WOTTHEFFF–
Bananas shuts her eyes at the last moment, the Mowta filling her whole life. She jumps, paws flat out front and back, straight into Paddles.
For those who wonder how the stories are illustrated, edited and brought to the book, your curiosity ends here…at least I hope so.
There are many ways one may choose to create illustrations but let’s simplify it and mention two main methods; traditional and digital. Basically, traditional illustration means the artist creates them using real pens, brushes, paint, paper, canvas, water, coffee… you name it, we use it! Digital illustrations on the other hand require an electronic device (like a pad, tablet, and of course an electronic pen).
Coz Bananas is so well behaved – and wouldn’t say boo to a flaplegs as the old saying goes – she’s not always attached to the lead. Perhaps, on the other paw, coz Oskar’s so well behaved he don’t need to be on his lead?
Wotever!
Yor’all very well behaved today she barks happily at Oskar and his siblings. The older brother and sister always go on walkies with Oskar coz packmom don’t let any of thems go on walkies alone.
No lead means Bananas can do wot she wants – which is not a lot coz Pugs are boisterous but not necessarily adventurous. Mostly, she trots along in front of Oskar snouting her familiar way towards Herdwick pooping park, squirting on familiar markers, checking out potential noshing opportunities, and occasionally bumping snoutz with her fourlegs mates.
Snifz yu, Missy Biscuits yaps Bananas happy to see her bigger sister the red-merle Australian Shepherd.
Snifz yu, too, beautiful replies Missy Biscuits equally pleased to bump snoutz with Bananas, the only female fourlegs in West Pid wot don’t act the jealous stonk.
A short bit of rough and tumble in the park, followed by a very small poop – Arjom dutifully bagging it in that specially scented plastic glove packmom provides him; and then it’s off to the High Street. The older pups have got a shopping list of errands to run for packmom. Bananas lyks these errands coz she gets to stay outside in the street with Oskar and play while the older pups disappear inside the shops. But she can always snifz thems wherever they disappear to.
“watchBananas” they scritch at Oskar, wobbling off.
Don’t fret about Oskar, I got him well under control she yaps back.
Today, the older pups go wobbling into the Organic shop on the corner of Short Cut. Bananas ain’t sure wot organic is but it sure don’t involve nosh coz they never bring back anything sniffy.
Wot a waste of good noshing time considers Bananas.
She turns her attention elsewhere for some fun and a bit of chin-wag.
Who better than Paddles sitting upon his tartan blanket halfway along Short Cut and blazing away in a big fuzzy blob of neon pink. Funny thing is the bright hot ball in the sky now shines on Squeezy squeezing her accordion and lighting up Paddles in an eyeball-watering corona. It ain’t the pink color wot Bananas eyeballs – coz fourlegs don’t catch many colours, ‘cept blues and greys – but Paddles fuzzy shape reminds her of thems strange things Oskar lyks to stick on the end of little twigs; wot he calls pencils.
Hey Paddles, snifz yu she trots forward, Oskar pulled close behind.
Don’t interrupt Paddles grunts sharply performing to the pedestrians, init
Bananas snifz about the blanket, attracted to the small metal bits, discovering a lot about individual hindlegs and wot they’ve eaten and how healthy they are from the greasy touch of thems handpaws.
And don’t touch ‘ems, coz Squeezy’s gonna take thems home and nosh ‘ems
Nosh ‘ems?
Sure! shocked that Bananas could even ask such a muttwit question.
Squeezy stops squeezing the accordion for a break “woooooph-huuuuuuh” she immediately tokes on her e-cig.
Thank dog that noise is over sighs Paddles now I gotta wait permission to take a squirtz
That makes no sense to Bananas. Any normal fourlegs can squirtz whenever it wants to.
“whyisyourdogpink?” Oskar scritches at Squeezy.
Normally Squeezy won’t scritch anything back about dogs and colours but coz Oskar is just a pup she allows a rare exception “coz,apinkdogattractsmorepeople–andmorepeoplegivemoremoney,makesense?”
Wot? asks Bananas, coz she understands Oskar but don’t understand wot most other hindlegs scritch – the same for most fourlegs, as it happens.
Pink. I’m pink for more money
Money?
Corss. From thems pedestrians.
The fact that both hindlegs have got no clue wot they’re barking about is irrelevant. But wotz a bit more relevant is glittery plum bobs. In that great mind between his short, thick and furry earflaps Paddles recalls Squeezy’s promise to spray his plumbs with glitter. Yes. That’s totally butt-lickin’ relevant. Coz he don’t want the glitter.
Uh-uh!
And he tells Bananas all abouts it.
Paddle’s plum bobs are of no great interest to Bananas – but glitter is. Thank dog no one scritches about promising to glitter her plum bobs. The fact that she don’t have any ain’t the here or over there.
Hindlegs think they can do wot they lyk she grumbles, trotting off with Oskar to join his siblings for the long wobble home.
▪
Ya, snifz yu, Bananas Gunther stops squirting on growling roundlegs and trots over to bump snoutz.
Hello, Gunther, snifz yu followed by a token sniffing of mutual rear ends.
Westley Piddle is looking up sez Guntherfräuleinmate and me are making spritzen on one BMW 450i roundlegs, one Mercedes C220 roundlegs, diesel corss, one Porsche 9–
That’s manyones comments Bananas
Ya Gunther pants happily.
“prettychildren” scritches fräuleinmate at the three hindlegs pups “allfromUkraine?”
“Estonia,actually” scritches Arjom politely.
Wotz outside Westley Piddle adds Bananas, catching the sound of ‘Estonia’. She does some heavy thinking of any other places she knows between her short black earflaps.
And she then recalls glittery plum bobs – and Paddles – and the disaster of glittery plum bobs on Paddles – one stuck to the other.
Gunther, wot do yu know about glittery plum bobs?
German brand? he barks immediately.
Not sure
Not German, not worth a spritzen
..yu come and go, yu come and go…Karma, Karma, ka…
As it happens, Paddles and Squeezy pass by on the mowta making all sorts of strange scritchy Boy George sounds. Off for a squirting break and a bit of nosh.
Gunther raises his snout and sniffs disdainfully at the mobility scooter.
Wot is the world coming to he grunts, dismissively.
And, all of a sudden, Bananas earflaps start flapping in great agitation. She’s thinking. Something most fourlegs won’t, don’t, can’t do much of.
Gunther, wotz that growling roundlegs? pointing her flat snout – wot ain’t so easy to do – at the mowta.
Not German – and not growling. Just a whiny, skinny roundlegs he replies getting bored and wanting to trot on and spritzen on a Jaguar F-Pace he’s sniffing, wotz illegally parked at the end of Short Cut.
Sure, but wot.is.it.?
Gunther who knows everything there is to know and wotz cleverer than most fourlegs – with his straight back, tail up and all tip-top, best of breed, lyk – delivers his lecture.
Ya, das ist a mobility scooter he begins in a patricianly manner TGA Breeze, mark 4 – if I am not mistaken – wot runs on two standard 12 volt, deep cycle, lead acid batteries, zat produces 24 volts…
“thatdoglikesbarking” scritches Oskar
“ya,German” scritches fräuleinmate, and the hindlegs pack watch in amusement as the two fourlegs yap at each other.
..running a class 3 mobility scooter with a maximum trotting speed of eight miles per h–
Eight wot?
Don’t matter continues Gunther now into his element with ze turning radius of one hundred and seventy four centi–
Brother interrupts Bananas,
all big black eyeballs staring up at the curly grey Standard Schnauzer I just wanna bump snoutz with that mowta and start some big submitting!
Ya, so? Gunther’s earflaps prick up in astonishment yu appear a bit small to do any big submitting, meine schwester
I’m female her flat snout brooking no further argument.
And, without no further argument, Gunther barks at her wot she’s got to do.
