Ha! But surely you're not casting aspersions on the canine ferocity of this fearsome beast? Red in tooth and claw, he is, toppling grown men with a single whisker.
Jennifer: that be a fine handsome beastie you've got there. S/he may well look at Wilbur and think 'breakfast', but that's probably because the thought of breakfast (or variations on that theme) dwells with Wilbur constantly. There are few mammals I have known so devoted to the pursuit of food that they will tunnel their way into the dogproof compost bin.
"How does it taste? I don't know, I've never eaten dog."
Speaking about being toppled by a whisker, I shamefully admit that I used to tease our family fox terrier with an egg-whisk. She also disliked tongs. Not to mention having her ears folded inside-out (which you can do with fox terrier ears, they're just like cardboard!) Not to mention...
Hmm, come judgment day I wonder whether she'll be chasing me around the sky with a gigantic egg whisk?
Thankfully, Terriers are easy to outfox. Being naturally excitable, a few choice exhortations to 'catch the mouse' or whatever it is that it is their wont to chase after will usually distract them.
And if only this were the shape the War on Terrierism had taken, the world would be a happier place. Regular international radio broadcasts of "Where's the mouse, Bin Laden? Where is it? Good booooooy! Clever dog!" would have to be at least as effective as the Strategic Banning of Water Bottles on Aircraft.
9 comments:
Um, 'The Call of the Mild'?
Ha! But surely you're not casting aspersions on the canine ferocity of this fearsome beast? Red in tooth and claw, he is, toppling grown men with a single whisker.
I'll match you line-down-the-muzzle and lolling-tongue, and raise you serene-expression and curly-tail:
http://a5.vox.com/6a00c2252787a0604 a00d41418ce056a47-pi
The fact that my dog would look at yours and think 'breakfast' is, of course, beside the point.
"My dog has no tongue"
"How does it taste?"
...
Jennifer: that be a fine handsome beastie you've got there. S/he may well look at Wilbur and think 'breakfast', but that's probably because the thought of breakfast (or variations on that theme) dwells with Wilbur constantly. There are few mammals I have known so devoted to the pursuit of food that they will tunnel their way into the dogproof compost bin.
Friendofafriend: ho ho.
Possible reply to friendofafriend's friend:
"How does it taste? I don't know, I've never eaten dog."
Speaking about being toppled by a whisker, I shamefully admit that I used to tease our family fox terrier with an egg-whisk. She also disliked tongs. Not to mention having her ears folded inside-out (which you can do with fox terrier ears, they're just like cardboard!) Not to mention...
Hmm, come judgment day I wonder whether she'll be chasing me around the sky with a gigantic egg whisk?
And people wonder why we're threatened with terrierism.
Thankfully, Terriers are easy to outfox. Being naturally excitable, a few choice exhortations to 'catch the mouse' or whatever it is that it is their wont to chase after will usually distract them.
And if only this were the shape the War on Terrierism had taken, the world would be a happier place. Regular international radio broadcasts of "Where's the mouse, Bin Laden? Where is it? Good booooooy! Clever dog!" would have to be at least as effective as the Strategic Banning of Water Bottles on Aircraft.
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