My Dogs...

I would bet you a million Euros I am the only person in all of the Lunigiana, and particularly in Codiponte, who carpools his dogs to go on a walk. After the unfortunate incident of last Summer of that Killed Cat, poor thing…

and please let me say, there is new evidence which has recently come to light regarding various aspects & circumstances surrounding the crime perpetrated by My Adore Cucciolo, The Croesus-person: the true & prior conditions of the Victim Pet, starting with its confirmed feral provenance & wild habits, the neighbor’s real association with the Killed Cat, they fed it on another neighbor’s stoop below their house. What? So as not to risk disease? Soil their pristine confines?… and how these professed owners of the Killed Victim dealt in giving succour to the Poor Animal, i.e. they waited over12 hours before carrying the Poor Thing to the Vet’s. My dander is up.

…I can no longer amble about the streets of my community unless The Dogs are securely attached to leashes, a physical impossibility, thanks to a becoming-bummed left hip and an already bummed lower back. Such happy issues. So, I carpool them into the surrounding wildernesses, i.e. those many, many landscape photos posted on Instagram… forrestspears.

I could gainfully bet you a million-trillion Euros I am the only person in Codiponte and securely within a radius of ten miles too of possessing the only stock of pure-breed dog. All others are bastards, mongrels, half-breeds. This majority are often mixes of Jack Russell Terriers… a highly randy lot… and some other runt breed rendering them short of stature and feisty in nature & character. None come up to even mid-calf on a small child. Quite aggressive too. In an occasional contest of physical wills between My Weimaraners and packs of these canine runtlings… a clear indication of how they automatically tend to form into vicious gangs of four-legged thugs… 99% of the time the folk here condemn My Noble Dogs as the perpetrators of any discord. Issues of their size meaning DANGEROUS. How so very ignorant. Whereas, in Absolute Truth, it’s the runts who 99% of the time instigate a whole bunch of growling & snarling. Nina-beena is especially seccata about these types of encounters, trotting home at il Poggiolo. The Croesus-person follows, stopping every few feet to launch a series of WARNING barks at the recalcitrants then, he too bolts for Home.

This leads me to continue with yet another wager of a million-trillion-zillion Euros MY DOGS ALWAYS KNOW THEIR WAY HOME!!! None, not one, nada of these pip-squeak-divano-dogs could Hope, Dream or, Pray their way home. And they don’t have to be small to be so clueless. The Killed Cat Neighbors have a white-haired Golden Retriever. Why call it a Golden Retriever? A stupid dog. Gets out of his confines, only to wander lost through Codiponte. We of the village are obligated to hear… MAATTTEOOO! MAATTTEOOO!! MAATTTEOOO!!! No reply. 20 minutes later I notice scuffling noises outside my windows, and there below, the neighbor masters are seen dragging the bewildered white dog home. Nina-beena has been know to scappate into the wilderness and is waiting for us at il Poggiolo before The Croesus-person and I have arrived. Ditto for The Croesus-person. I rest my case.

Leaves me only to invoke a declaration of Mary Poppin’s reading her own personal assessment:

Just as I thought. “Nina-beena and The Croesus-person, practically perfect in every way.