Once upon a time, a certain Miss Edna decided to bring home an English Mastiff puppy. The little fellow grew at an alarming rate and took guarding the garden extremely seriously. Hed polish off a washing-up bowls worth of food in the blink of an eye, scratch his back on the garden fence until the poor thing leaned dangerously to the left, and occasionally tried to drag Miss Edna off her feet as she tottered by. A pup that size needed regular entertainment, after all.
One day, though, Miss Edna went to the great tea party in the skynot because of the dog, mind youjust didnt quite make it to her ninetieth birthday. So, her children and grandchildren descended on her little cottage in Kent. And there in the back garden, firmly attached to a chain, sat the dog, making it abundantly clear with one glance that visitors were a rare treat in this neck of the woods. Not every day does an all-you-can-eat buffet stroll through your gate with such variety and vitamins.
A great debate broke out: what on earth should be done with the beast? To put him down seemed heartless, but sharing a postcode with him felt dicey, and releasing him into the wild was out of the questionno need to punish the countryside for Ednas enthusiasm for oversized pets. They decided to find him a new home. As an extra incentive, they would send some cashsay, fifty quidto anyone willing to adopt this furry menace.
Eventually, a chap was foundColinwho had always harboured dreams of feeding a dog with a dustbin lid and giving behind-the-ear scritches with a garden rake. People have stranger ambitions, dont they? Next, a vet was summoned.
The plan was simple: the vet would sedate the dog, and everyone would hustle him into his new home, giving the new owner a quick good-luck handshake (or perhaps lighting a candle for his souljust in case). Anything could happen, really.
Right on time, the vet arrived, rifle and all. Of course, all vets are unflappable heroes. He loaded the tranquilizer into his vet rifle, took aim, and with one shot, sent the dog snoring off to dreamland. Chain unclipped, they rolled him onto a tarpaulin and dragged the lump to the car.
They loaded the snoozing dog into the estate cars boot (suitably attached to the family area behind), and decided the vet should ride up front for minimum traumahe was the true professional, after all. Colin got the drivers seat, bravely holding the wheel, and the entire extended family squeezed into the backseats, nattering away as British families do. All was well until the dog started coming round.
He lifted his head and peered curiously about. Humans everywhere, all peering back with that what-in-blazes-now look.
The vets eyes were dinner plates. Colin matched the stare, refusing to turn away from the road for even a moment, and truth be told, not especially caring about his responsibilities as driver in that moment.
How interesting, thought the dog.
Does Heaven have dogs? wondered the humans.
The dog immediately decided to climb into the people-zone, eager for a closer inspection. Whats a journey without a little mingling? Meanwhile, Colin made a desperate grab for the door handle, seriously contemplating a dash for freedomdriving or not, hed already checked out for the day. The pup, however, bypassed all drama and began enthusiastically licking everyone: Ednas entire clan and their new friend Colin. Family is family, isnt it? Even the vet got a good washinghe mightve shot the dog, but bygones are bygones.
Thus, the family realised their man-eater was in fact more Labrador than legend. They spent the rest of the journey home soakedhead to toefrom above with a generous drizzle of dog kisses, from below with adrenaline and emotion that only awakening from a canine slumber can provoke.
Ah, my beloved little garden and cottagenothing dull is ever allowed to happen there.
