Author Topic: Britain a Land of Pet Lovers  (Read 726 times)

Langstraat

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Britain a Land of Pet Lovers
« on: August 29, 2006, 10:28:11 PM »
We/I had been left holding the baby well it wasn't really a baby it was ' Tyke'† a cross breed mongrel. I didn't want him I had enough to contend with with my Airedale 'Morgan'. It wouldn't have been fair to bring this juvenile into his domain during the twilight time of his life. It was decided to take him to a dog rescue kennel and muggins had to do the deed. I took him to his new home The Pondorosa Kennels. He sat in the car and shivered all the way there, his white fur fell out with each tremor. By the time we got there the car looked as if it had been through a snow storm. The kennel maid took one look at him, laughed, shook her head and barked "we wont be able to get rid of that" Tyke understood and another skane of his wool fell out on to their welcome mat. There was nothing for it but to take him back home so that he could go the the Vets the following morning on a one way ticket. He bucked up a bit on the drive home and licked my ear each time I turned† right. When we pulled up on the drive the three females of the house sheepishly came to meet me. There eyes lit up to see him again and misread the situation and believed that I had relented; even Morgan greeted the little rascal. Needless to say he didn't make his appointment with Mrs Oaks the canine dispatcher and has been a family member for over 8 years. He never leaves my side and follows me every where. When I go to the toilet he sits by my side. Sometimes if I fall asleep watching TV I'm awoken by his crushing weight as he sleeps on my lap like a large unruly child who reluctantly wont grow up.† In the early days I sent an email to other family members in the hope that they would share the burden and enjoy the experience albeit in a joking manner. Below is the email that I sent out

Those families who have been reluctant to keep some of our 'Special Local Breeds' have realised that a time share is the perfect alternative to owning a pet. Pets of all types can now be placed in selected homes for periods between a week to 10 years. This novel scheme offers families a wonderful experience and joy that only our great British dog owning tradition can give.
 One of the most sought after types of pet is the Yorkshire interbred 'Tyker[censored]teus' they are distinguished by their:
† † † † † † † unusually large ears that can hold a quart of onion gravy;
† † † † † † † have rear flanks that have the proportions similar to two of 'Aunt Bessie's Family sized Yorkshire† † †
† † † † † † † Puddings';
† † † † † † † have the eyes of a Slender Loris;
† † † † † † † can outrun a† *Doncaster miner's whippet;
and have a vague hint of sunburn pinkness† in the skin that shines through a cascading fur/pelt effusion, only found in this perpetual of sloughing canine. The copious amount of this rarest form of angora like fur may be easily harvested daily using nothing more elaborate than a common Dual Cyclone Turbo Dyson (on high setting) in fact whereas 100 years ago local children were renowned for their traditional home knitted woolen jumpers. It is now becoming increasingly common to see them in a variety of uniquely styled garments woven from this 'noblest' of yarns. It gives one a tremendous thrill to see small huddle's of children continually, actively, interacting with these specially produced garments by their characteristic movements and twitches. They certainly set themselves apart from the plethora of children in their designer labelled clothing which many would say may have lead to the demise of such wondrous industrial sites as the woolen industries of the Ravensthorp Valley and the Calder Gorge.† Another unique bi-product which may help you decide whether to take part in this exciting offer is often, affectionately referred to as 'Walnut Whips.' These curios may often be seen out of doors (although not exclusively), usually in clusters on garden lawns for the duration of the little rascals life (barring accidents) These distinctive mini volcano like 'conicals' may be harvested by gathering in supermarket bags where they can be deposited around the owners perimeter, providing an effective and free intruder/personnel deterrent.
There can be no more pleasing sight than to lookout of a bedroom window and see these little mounds, with their faint wisps of steam rising on a cold winters midmorning sunrise. They may be likened to 'little phosphorescent jewels' on an emerald/brown/green sea.
This truly memorable, vision will never to be forgotten during your conscious hours.(fact)

I enclose a picture for your consideration and trust that any further questions that you may have will be forthcoming, please be assured that the incidence of irritable bowel syndrome can now be effectively controlled by simple insertion of a cork, which may be obtained from any home-brew suppliers or Boots the Chemist;

Disclaimer

† † † † † † †Caution is still advised regarding the proximity of this animal and any naked lights.


Most sincerely,

Crispean,

Crispean Weldon.

For some reason no one partook in this offer.

What Pet story do you have?

Never argue with an idiot, they'll drag you down to their level and try to beat you with experience.

kadoodey

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Re: Britain a Land of Pet Lovers
« Reply #1 on: September 22, 2006, 11:12:07 PM »
hi what a lovely dog and well cared for.Brits are animal lovers too.i live in Spain,out in the campo,we have packs of wild puppies roaming around here, no one will do anything to help our plight.Spanish dont bother having their animals neutered or spayed,so they ae left to roam around.
if we rang the local Guardia police, they would come and shoot them, but we don't want to see that happen.same with the cat population too, cats everywhere ,looking for food.if we Brits feed them ,as many do we never solve this problem.the dogs are so hungry they break open the hard shells on the almond nuts to eat them.
animals in the UK, are very lucky indeed!!

Langstraat

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Re: Britain a Land of Pet Lovers
« Reply #2 on: September 22, 2006, 11:48:36 PM »
A Tail/Tale about my best mate.
 Morgan the Airedale.

One summer I was working in the garden when my daughter came out to me (a rare occasion for her to come into the garden) she asked "how long has Morgan had fillings dad?" well, I thought for a while and quite frankly couldn't ever remember taking him to the dentist and the idea of him going by himself or even actually being able to find one on the National Health didn't seem a possibility either.
I called him to me and when he eventually did as bid I wrestled him to the ground and sat astride his barrelled chest. He twisted from side to side like a bucking bronco but became silent and still as I rested my hands around his neck.Tightly.† I asked Jennie to fetch a wooden screwdriver from the drawer that holds all in the kitchen. I relaxed my grip on his throat and as he made a gasp for air managed to place the wooden handle of the screwdriver between his rear molars jamming his jaw in the open position ala 'crocodile'. I tilted his head and saw the glint of metal at the back where his giant molars rested. On both sides he had two fillings a total of four perfectly placed central to the dentine depression. On close examination the exposed metal had the pattern of a Philips countersunk screw head number 8. I ask my beautiful assistant to fetch me a suitable Philips screwdriver and placing it into the depression unscrewed the fixings. Morgan had calmed at this stage, maybe my weight had a pacifying effect.
I removed the four screws from his jaw. He must have picked them up on one of his forays into the garage. He had always had this thing about metal ever since his puppy stage. I remembered the time he had remained in his basket all afternoon as good as gold 'choberling' on some tiny object that he refused to share with me or anyone else. His gums were bleeding and his dribble was red. I placed my hand into his mouth and rummaged round before finding a tiny piece of metal. Morgan had found a pin and folded it once and then miraculously once more. An addition to this tale was when he eat a gold watch belonging to my partners mother; he didn't swallow it whole, he choose to chew each piece. Maybe it was something to do with a deficiency in his diet, whatever.
He was my best pal for 13 years never told me a lie, was always there to share any food I had; welcomed me with a wagging stump whenever I returned from being away from him for a few minutes.
He was once attacked by a pair of Dobermans in Sutton Park; one went for his throat while the other attacked him from the rear as their owner looked on. I kicked the rear Doberman with so much force my foot sank into its rib cage and lifted him off the ground. He slinked back to its master as did the other one. The owner said something about my vicious attack but I didnít hear. I carried my Morgan back to the car cradling him in my arms and as I but him in carefully in the back he licked my ear and his stump of a tail wagged.
 He never left my side after that incident.
Never argue with an idiot, they'll drag you down to their level and try to beat you with experience.