Dog terrorist alert on La'al Ratty! (September 2005)
STOP PRESS! LATEST NEWS. JUST IN!
Hairyface's mate (uncle) Tony came up for the weekend, so Hairy took him to the little train I've writ about before.
(Same walk as well, cos Uncle T hadn't done it. So it was rather Boresville Kentucky for YT and kid sis!)
However...
We were on the train, pootlin along, as we do, at "n" miles an hour (ie dead slow!). Suddenly, there was an almighty hissing noise like a huge one of Ratbag's snakes (Ratbag is The Screature's kid sister, and a pain in the gluteous). Io leapt about a foot in to the air and onto the seat opposite uncle Tony.
Naturally the humings all laughed at the kid sis's antics and the expression of sheer terror etched across her visog. Honestly, I didn't know eyes could open that wide. But slowly and surely the train began to draw to a conclusion, in the middle of nowhere.
A sprog got out from the engine and walked along the train. When he got next to us he yelled ,"There's a leak here!" And a hairier bloke than Hairy appeared and asked us to shift our butts. Well, not as down to earth as that, but that was the general impression.
I was having a quiet nap at the time of the hissing and stopping. I wasn't too chuffed to be getting off the wagon to be shunted out from a spot I'd just got nicely warmed up. (Hairy had let me sit on the seat as it was covered in plastic and I wasn't scruffy yet!)
Any road, the sprog and the Santa chap broddled about where Io had been and said, "There's an hole in yon pipe!" In a voice loud enough for the whole train to hear and put two and two together!
After a lot of head scratching, and standing about looking dateless they proceeded to try and fix the hole.
Io (Saboteur extraordinaire) was remarkably quiet. She gave this air of "What? Me..? Would I do such a thing?" As in the photograph. (Butter wouldn't melt!)
Hairyface and Uncle T. both leapt to her defence, saying stuff like: "She's not a chewer!" [Ha, that made me laugh, she's ett the toe out of four pairs of The S's shoes already!]
"She wasn't under the seat." [Course she was. She was narked cos I'd got on it!"]
"She doesn't even know how to spell Al Qaida, never mind be one!" [Ha, (again) that dog could be a sleeper, planted on this unsuspecting, typically English family, waiting for her moment to pounce - and then wham! Nobody'd know what hit 'em.]
Well... I'd know!
It'd be Io the Sabo throwing her clog into the mundane happenings of our Gilcrux household. Watching the ripples of terror spread through West Cumbria, and sniggering behind her paw at the mayhem and chaos she'd caused. (Actually, she does that pretty much anyway!)
The upshot of all this was that international terrorism reared its hairy head in West Cumbria for a brief moment on Saturday morning. Until with a bit of British gumption and a length of gaffer tape they fixed the hole and we were off again. Twenty minutes of the walk stolen!
We got moved to another carriage and squashed in next to the guard, probably to make sure Io Sabo didn't gnaw off another vital component! I did the head butting thing on the guard's arm, to pour oil on troubled water, and he went through the "Nice doggy!" routine. Hairy & Uncle T. continued to defend this terrorist in our midst.
Afterwards, [that is after the trek round Eel Tarn - where it rained - and which I won't mention again] sat in the Woolpack, Io Sabo did happen to mention, quite nonchalantly, like, that she hadn't chewed that pipe thingy at all. She had merely been seeing if it wasn't a discarded liquorice allsort, cos it was the same colour as those coconutty ones she particularly likes.
Hairyface's mate (uncle) Tony came up for the weekend, so Hairy took him to the little train I've writ about before.
(Same walk as well, cos Uncle T hadn't done it. So it was rather Boresville Kentucky for YT and kid sis!)
However...
We were on the train, pootlin along, as we do, at "n" miles an hour (ie dead slow!). Suddenly, there was an almighty hissing noise like a huge one of Ratbag's snakes (Ratbag is The Screature's kid sister, and a pain in the gluteous). Io leapt about a foot in to the air and onto the seat opposite uncle Tony.
Naturally the humings all laughed at the kid sis's antics and the expression of sheer terror etched across her visog. Honestly, I didn't know eyes could open that wide. But slowly and surely the train began to draw to a conclusion, in the middle of nowhere.
A sprog got out from the engine and walked along the train. When he got next to us he yelled ,"There's a leak here!" And a hairier bloke than Hairy appeared and asked us to shift our butts. Well, not as down to earth as that, but that was the general impression.
I was having a quiet nap at the time of the hissing and stopping. I wasn't too chuffed to be getting off the wagon to be shunted out from a spot I'd just got nicely warmed up. (Hairy had let me sit on the seat as it was covered in plastic and I wasn't scruffy yet!)
Any road, the sprog and the Santa chap broddled about where Io had been and said, "There's an hole in yon pipe!" In a voice loud enough for the whole train to hear and put two and two together!
After a lot of head scratching, and standing about looking dateless they proceeded to try and fix the hole.
Io (Saboteur extraordinaire) was remarkably quiet. She gave this air of "What? Me..? Would I do such a thing?" As in the photograph. (Butter wouldn't melt!)
Hairyface and Uncle T. both leapt to her defence, saying stuff like: "She's not a chewer!" [Ha, that made me laugh, she's ett the toe out of four pairs of The S's shoes already!]
"She wasn't under the seat." [Course she was. She was narked cos I'd got on it!"]
"She doesn't even know how to spell Al Qaida, never mind be one!" [Ha, (again) that dog could be a sleeper, planted on this unsuspecting, typically English family, waiting for her moment to pounce - and then wham! Nobody'd know what hit 'em.]
Well... I'd know!
It'd be Io the Sabo throwing her clog into the mundane happenings of our Gilcrux household. Watching the ripples of terror spread through West Cumbria, and sniggering behind her paw at the mayhem and chaos she'd caused. (Actually, she does that pretty much anyway!)
The upshot of all this was that international terrorism reared its hairy head in West Cumbria for a brief moment on Saturday morning. Until with a bit of British gumption and a length of gaffer tape they fixed the hole and we were off again. Twenty minutes of the walk stolen!
We got moved to another carriage and squashed in next to the guard, probably to make sure Io Sabo didn't gnaw off another vital component! I did the head butting thing on the guard's arm, to pour oil on troubled water, and he went through the "Nice doggy!" routine. Hairy & Uncle T. continued to defend this terrorist in our midst.
Afterwards, [that is after the trek round Eel Tarn - where it rained - and which I won't mention again] sat in the Woolpack, Io Sabo did happen to mention, quite nonchalantly, like, that she hadn't chewed that pipe thingy at all. She had merely been seeing if it wasn't a discarded liquorice allsort, cos it was the same colour as those coconutty ones she particularly likes.
Two Weimaraners on a bridge over troubled water.
Hairyface and Uncle T. still gave her chips!!!
I could spit.
posted by Maia [and Io] | 10:40 am
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