To Be A Dog for A Day!

JJ McCarrick

“Here, let me tell you of my single day in the life of an urban dog. I woke up and went and sniffed the cat’s bum. And then, after I’d scratched a meter of paint off the inside of the back door, I sat and waited. The door was, eventually, opened by my owner, he of the giant footwear. ‘Keep those claws off the paintwork, you mongrel!’ he cried, and sure enough, he booted me up the ass.

“Mongrel indeed, I’ll have him know we Border Collies are a genuinely unique breed and highly intelligent. Anyway, I looked up and down the street and saw Flint the German shepherd, smelling walls and tires and then peeing on them. A legend, around here is our Flint, can pee halfway across the street you see. And, when he puts his mind to it, he has been known to reach the other side. He caught the paperboy a beauty last week. Gee, the paperboy, looked funny, pee running down his shirt onto his morning papers.’

“It’s scrounged time now, for me. My neighbours are always excellent for some scraps. Then it’s round to the butchers for me. I look up and I see, prancing bye all dolled up, the local glamour hound, “Morning Dolorous, new hairdo I see!” I offer it in a friendly way. She, in turn, lifts her nose and her tail and moons me.

“Now where was I. Food, that was it! Arriving at the neighbours, I saw Goober the Cocker Spaniel. I call out, ‘Hey … Donkey drop, get away from those scraps they’re mine.’ But he’s finishing off the last of them, with his gut is scraping on the floor; after all those scraps. Not that it was far away to start with. And then he gives me the one claw salute. The neighbours are also smiling at my loss. They won’t be smiling when their rubbish bin ends up down the bottom of the street; that’s for sure. And those paper bags they use are a gas, one quick stab, and its playtime.

“So, turning away somewhat disappointed and hungry I head for the butcher’s shop. You know, I swear that this street is getting longer every day; It’s either that or I’m getting older. I got to keep the energy levels up, though, just in case I ever get the call for Police work. I see it on that screen in our front room all the time. I could do that I reckoned. Then I coughed up a ball of crap and thought, perhaps not.

“The butcher’s shop is strangely quiet, for this time of day, and the usual crowd of friends and not so friendly aren’t there? Why I wonder, but I couldn’t be expected to know, as I’m a dog. And so, my reasoning goes out the window with the smell of fresh meat. I did wonder at the time, though, what butcher leaves his back door open. That’s an open invitation to any passing stray that’s for sure. Maybe the passing traffic smelled something? I thought I’d better check out the inside of the shop, just in case his meat was going off.

“The first thing that struck me was a terrible smell, not of meat, something sickly sweet, and the more I nosed around, the more nervous I became. There is no one to be seen and I am by this time starting to select what it is I shall have for lunch, brunch even. When the smell gets even worse; and then I decide to check out the front of the shop. That’s when things got a little odd because I find the butcher lying face down on the floor, and he doesn’t look well, and the smell is now getting even worse. Then I saw my mate, Flint the German-Shepherd passing the front window. I barked, loudly, and Flint hearing me, came back to the front window. Flint come in here and tells me what you think.” I cried out.

“I’ve already eaten,” he replied

“Not food!” I said. “There’s an awful smell in here, and the butcher doesn’t look so good?”

“Mm, okay,” he said and ran around the building to the back door of the shop. “Whew … what is that smell? And why’s the butcher lying on the floor?” Asked Flint, pulling a face.

“I think we need to get him out of here quickly, I have a bad feeling about this,” I said.

“We need to get out of here and now. I remember that smell now!” He said.

“Well … are you going to tell me?” I asked, at the same time grabbing the butcher’s trouser-cuff with my teeth. Flint has a hold of his other ankle, and we begin to drag the butcher across the floor. Flint mumbled something through his clenched teeth, but I could no longer hear what he was saying. ‘Stop Flint; … Don’t speak with your mouth full, I can’t understand you,’” I said.

Flint dropped the butcher’s ankle and replied, “I said, the last time I smelled something like this, the whole place shot up in flames?”

“Then we’d better get a move on!” I said.

We managed to drag the butcher out to the back door. And just as we were about to leave my tail wagged, as I was best pleased to be getting out of there. But my tail caught one of the loose meat-hooks lying in a pile on the butchers chopping block. This fell to the floor in a full tumbling arc, before striking the concrete floor and producing a spark that we didn’t need right at that moment.

“Before we knew it there came a giant flash of yellow light that lit up the whole morning sky, followed by a tremendous roar. And then, the entire shop collapsed in a heap; almost at our feet. There were pieces of meat flying in all directions, most of it cooked from the heat. But I couldn’t hang around for a feed, as too many people were now arriving.

“And before leaving, I had to roll around like a demented pig because my coat is by now, on fire. And after hearing all the bells and sirens in the distance, both Flint and I shot off at top speed for home. When we stopped running, Flint was beside himself with horror, “Look at the state of my coat, it’s ruined,” he growled.

But after looking at my coat, I told Flint to stop whining. “Mine is just as bad as yours, you should have peed on the fire and put it out!”

Flint looked at me as if I were mad. “Yeah right, then I’d have lost something else.” Flint then ran off home grumbling all the way.

“It was also off home for me, too. And after slipping in the door ever so quietly, he of the bat ears and large boots was waiting for me, even though I thought hadn’t heard me.

“What is that smell on your body dog, and look at the state of your hair, it’s all frizzled. Get outside and into the kennel.”

“And I got a boot up the ass for good measure. I’m sure this is where I came in; maybe it’s the boot up the ass that seems familiar?

Epilogue: “There was talk, I gather, about a pair of dogs who were called heroes for saving the butchers life. But then there’s always a load of rubbish on the screen in the lounge. The only reward I got was a boot up the ass. Who’d be a dog even for one day!”

The End …Maybe!

W1284 P9