(pictured above: the Lads, in happier times)
People reckon I’m thick and like to take advantage. It’s not great for the self esteem. I realised I’d had enough of this one day and decided to only socialise with people who are less intelligent than me. Not being too bright, this meant that I ended up hanging around with dogs.
The dogs thought I was a genius. I could just walk through a door (of a shop) and come out with food (I bought) and, as far as the dogs were concerned, I’d just made dinner appear out of nowhere. It was loaves and fishes stuff to the dogs. You could see them thinking ‘how the hell did he do that?’ as I scattered packets of digestives on the pavement. The simple act of buying biscuits was Large Hadron Collider level ingenuity to the lads. (I called my dog friends ‘The Lads’.)
Humans regarded my friendship with the lads suspiciously. You should’ve seen the look on the owners’ faces when I came knocking at the door asking ‘is Mardy in?’ There was one old lady who was glad to let her German Shepherd (Kaiser) out with me though, as it saved her having to exercise him herself.
But Kaiser, well, he started getting smart. He began to usurp me as leader of the pack. We’d all be running down the road, barking at cyclists and that, when all of a sudden Kaiser would lead the lads off down some side alley, leaving me behind. Sometimes, when I was approaching the lads on the street, they’d act all aloof. I could tell they’d been talking about me and Kaiser would have that look on his face. The smug muzzle on him. It was enough to make me sick.
I tried to win the lads back by buying a load of cooked chicken, battenberg, and almond fingers. No expense spared. It didn’t work out though. The lads just got fat, their owners got fed up, and Kaiser’s influence remained. I couldn’t figure out his appeal. I mean, he never bought a scrap of food and even if he wanted to he couldn’t. How could he? Where would he keep the money? He didn’t even have any pockets.
I realised something would have to be done about Kaiser, so one day I took the lads up the local vets and got them to wait outside. Then I brought Kaiser inside and had him put down. ‘That’ll learn ya!’ I said to Kaiser as a perturbed looking vet administered the lethal injection, ‘that’ll bloody learn ya!’
The lads were a bit mournful for a while but the old status quo was eventually restored and I was Top Dog once again.
Things continued like this for a couple of years until all the lads died of heart attacks. Too much fatty food. A few owners got together and launched legal proceedings against me so I changed my name and moved to a different part of the city where I am now. Not many dogs around here so I’ve taken up with cats. They like being fed too but it isn’t the same. The cats seem less impressed by my ability to produce food from nowhere. Their unjustifiable sense of entitlement is frankly unappealing. They also wander off when I’m holding court, speaking about my thoughts and observations. Cats just gobble up what’s on offer and waddle off across the rooftops (I say ‘waddle’ because they are getting a bit podgy like the lads did).
It’s hard to be the boss of cats. It’s all conditional with them. There’s none of that palsy walsy stuff I used get with the lads. Cats are users really. They’re as bad as people. They just take advantage. They think I’m stupid. Well, they’ll see how stupid I am. I’m looking up the Golden Pages. I’m looking for the nearest vet. LOL! etc.
Speaking of dogs, check out the first ever Rabid Dog Christ comic by clicking the following link: RABID DOG CHRIST
