An Easy Dozen

Master’s on the couch, talking to Puddles. She’s a foxy terrier, cute’s her stock-in-trade, and she’s keeping Master distracted.

I’m Chet, a border collie. Me and Puddles and Tango the cattle dog, we have a plan; a snatch and grab. The prize: the dozen sausages on the kitchen bench.

So far, we’re sweet. I’ve got an eye on Master while Tango does the snatch. Tango’s dependable, fast, and clever. Maybe too clever.

Puddles is in full cute mode – somewhere in the kilowatt range; I signal Tango. And he’s on the bench and down in a flash. The grab is good.

But then he freezes. I see the problem… Tibbles, the snitch. Buried Bones! Why even have a cat? He yowls loudly, calling us out, and now Master’s looking up!

I spring plan B. “Intruder! Intruder!,” I shout, rushing to the window. Master buys it, just for a second. But Tango’s good, real good; a second’s all he needs. He’s out the dog-door faster than greased chicken. Whoo… close.

I tap Puddles and we dash out, leaving a bewildered Master and fuming Tibbles behind.

And crash straight into Tango’s trembling butt.

“Ullo lads.”

Oh Vet Visits… it’s Rambo, the Rottweiler.