Toast of the Pound

Yeah, I know a beagle from Miami was named "Top Dog" 2004. But no one asked my opinion--so I'll give it anyway. Here's my candidate.

"A dog has been baffling staff at Battersea Dog's Home after breaking out of his kennel and releasing his canine pals for midnight feasts. The lurcher, called Red, learnt to free himself and his companions to carry out night raids on the kitchen at the animal shelter in south London."

Par-tay! Gotta' love a pooch that remembers his buds. Just one question. What the hell is a lurcher? A drunken greyhound*? Now that would be an interestin' race…

"Becky Blackmore, of Battersea Dog's Home, revealed the evidence on GMTV. She said: "It is really amazing because lurchers aren't particularly renowned for their intelligence. It is amazing that he has worked out how to get out of his own kennel but then also that he goes and lets all his friends out. They had lots of food, lots of fun and games and caused loads of mess."

See, that's what happens when you humans underestimate us. 'Course I wouldn't have caused the mess. My Dad taught me to be neat--and he was a master. Once I watched him retrieve a pork chop bone from the trash bin. (SHF could never remember not to toss bones in the kitchen trash.) Anyway, there he was, standing upright, holding the lid up with his forehead while he pawed his way through the eggshells and tin cans 'til he found the bone, pulled it out and waltzed off. Then the kids hit the can--yeah, me too. AHM would yell and scream (she hated sweeping up coffee grounds) and Dad would just sit in the door, watchin' and grinnin'. I learned.

Felyings, of course, would make a mess and hog everything for themselves.

*(Guess I wasn't too far off about the greyhound bein' drunk.)

posted by Harrison at 1:00 AM