"..a bardy view!"

It’s a dogs life….

The woman who returned a Jack Russell terrier to the RSPCA after 48 hours citing that the mutt clashed with her curtains was probably attempting churlish wit. Jack_1813258c Insensitive she may be, cruel, perhaps, shallow without doubt, but – and here is the but – it could well be that the dynamic adventurous bundle she adored at the kennels was a very different beast once she got it home.

I really don't know the ins and outs of this story, but the media are milking it for all its worth.

Animal stories always go down well – especially if they involve homeless dogs. Cats too – but they don't get as much sympathy as the hapless hound. A recent advert on British TV for an advertising company (the advertiser advertising themselves – that's a new one!) has a homeless scraggy hound showing a video of itself doing a song and dance, making the beds, loading the washing machine, feeding the baby and vacuuming the carpets. Indeed, after his 30 second sales pitch, he already has his bags packed ready for his new owners. His doleful eyes implore want and need. Who could resist?

It wouldn't surprise me in the least if the Witch of Wembley (or Wimbledon, wherever, who knows?) thought that this is the type of dog she was taking home.

A wonderful dinner party topic amongst her equally obnoxious and pretentious friends, but who am I to judge or jump to conclusions – nay – even criticise? Maybe she discovered that the dog wasn't house trained and liked to pee, crap and puke with impunity, wherever and whenever the fancy took him?

I speak with some authority on this subject. I have a Jack Russell – a Jackie actually, and she is a real bitch. For the last six years she has postured pompously, like a Madame de Pompadour at the the court of Versailles. She doesn't walk – she prances, shaking her derriere like a female version of Beau Brummel.

Perhaps I am over critical. But she really pisses me off. Who does she think she is? Well I tell you, many a time I have taken her for a walk in Richmond Park on the off chance that a stag deer will give her some comeuppance. Unfortunately Jack Russell's are fearless and are totally unaware of their size. Indeed anything slightly larger than their short, stocky muscular bodies is a prime excuse for a display of bravado.

I have lost count on the number of times I have had to apologise to cyclists, joggers, and anyone who looks remotely elderly (don't ask). One day I will probably get sued – well, that will be a sorry day for Miss Jack!

Jack Russell's are very clever. Indeed their intelligence far outweighs their Body Mass Index, and I'm sure that mine is a reincarnation of Isaac Newton. That may have something to do with his third law of motion – every action has an equal and positive reaction.

Especially if it has teeth! Pit Bulls and Mastiffs steer well clear of this pocket dynamo. Many have battle scars to remind them. Although she is a wimp where swans are concerned.

Sure they look innocent, but Jack Russells need owners who don't want cuddly loving doe-eyed floppy eared daft bounders, but  ones who can look them in the eye with as much contempt that can be mustered.

Would my family ever part with her – never – but there is a swan in Osterley Park which may just do me a favour! Mhuwahahahaaar!

(Evil laugh!)



January 30, 2011 - Posted by | Current Affairs, Dogs, General, United Kingdom |

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