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Dog Days #3

by Nathan Jones

Dog Days is a serial about the plight of a dog walker, Richie Pen, and Kenny, his dog.

Hello Bobbles,

Spring is in the air! It’s nice to be back now, while the men are hacking the trees back in the park and the sun is scratchy on the grass. The snowmens' boots are still there though, Bob. Or the top of their heads?...

Hey, remember the crystal house in Madrid this weekend? God, I missed Kenny, watching all those well-heeled Spaniards meander with their sad-faced Scotties and pharaoh-style ones. Why did they keep them on leads the whole time though? The best bit is when your dog runs up and puts his nose in a big one’s bottom or goes over the hill and comes back smelling of dead bird. I never thought I would know the smell of dead bird so well. It’s a grey pigeon! or, It’s a crow’s leg! I shout, before I even see what he’s carrying. Brings a whole new meaning to ‘twitcher’.

Anyway, I have found out that the crystal house was made by Howes Crystalton. That is why there was no actual crystals in there, but lots of tacky baubley things instead. You see, he is a distant relative of Mister Crystletoes, the infamous gout-sufferer who invented Christmas and often kissed his wife, Misty, in the doorway, and had a shortlived affair with Missus Crumblebarb – tastywoman. Not as tasty as you though Bob. Baubles.

The reason for this digression was that Kenny had the slops. Some dog walkers love talking about the slops, but I am not one of them, and I’m damned if I’m going to sully this personal note with that kind of talk. Anyway, I’ve been out just now and he seems much better because he is doing tough two-tones. First one colour then the next, then a mix. Nice solid ones, like a pog dispenser. Pog in this case is a conflabation of ‘poo’ and ‘dog’.

Amazing. Not only has this dog made me a man of the people like Benicio Del Toro, but also I am now a connoisseur of all sorts!

You were right. Love,

Richie Pen and Runny Ken.