Dog Walking Wars; A Tall Tail –

Janet and Tracy walked the dog, the dogs, they were dog walkers.  They competed for dogs, this had led to bad things happening, to hostilities.  Janet usually walked up to fourteen dogs at a time, all off-lead of course, only ‘amateurs’ would ‘lead-up’ their dogs, that would be Tracy, and Janet wanted to rid the dog-walking world of Tracy.

Hostilities between Janet and Tracy could get complicated.  Not all of Janet’s dogs liked Janet, and some of Janet’s dog liked Tracy, and some of Tracy’s dogs liked Janet, and some of Janet and Tracy’s dogs liked anyone except Janet and Tracy.  Those dogs often looked for an opportunity for a getaway, towards anyone walking around the park, anyone having the new faster-style power-walk around the park, anyone riding a bike, pushing a bike, anyone jogging, holding onto a fence, drinking a power-aid, smoking, taking drugs within the confines of thick hedging, or someone in the beautiful outdoors scrolling through some important social media events.

Janet’s husband, Cecil, was a ‘genius’, a military specialist, and he’d been up all night.  He’d come up with – ‘dogs fitted with machine guns’, an invention with no downside except dead dog-walkers and dead members of the general public who happened to be in the general vicinity of any attack.  He gave Janet a logistics battle plan.  When Janet spotted Tracy, at approximately one hundred yards, Janet should arm the gadget, this would send an electrical impulse into the dog’s brain, fire up the dog’s natural neurons controlling the dangerous combination of fear and aggression, and trigger the dog to run towards the intended target, Tracy.  When Darcy the Dachshund, Graham the Greyhound or Albert the Airedale were approximately twenty yards from Tracy, the heat-seeking chip inside the dog’s collar would signal –

“Fire Multiple Rounds – Empty Magazine!!”

With an armed small dog, Tracy’s legs would feel the full force, a medium-sized dog, Border Collie for example, the chest up, Tracy’s tits would be scrambled eggs, however tests suggested only a galloping galoot of a Golden Retriever with a good run-up for a leap-up could hit Tracy square in the face.  Janet liked the sound of all of this, marvelled at Cecil’s genius with bits of things, his gadget moulding, and promised him sexual intercourse when all the day’s hostilities were over.

Before she could go to war with Tracy, Janet knew she needed to work on her dog’s social skills.  She needed to be sure all her dogs were ‘on side’, that there were no usurpers, fifth columnists, traitors in the pack.  The carnage that was needed, was needed one way, in the direction of Tracy.  Tracy had to go, had to be eliminated so that peace and harmony could be restored to the dog-walking world.  That morning, Janet beat all her dogs with a large whip, she made sure all were paying attention, and she strapped-up Sid the Spaniel and Ruby the Rottweiler with Cecil’s armoury for the mission ahead.

On the near horizon, moving alongside three pensioners feeding ducks, was Tracy.  Janet started to sweat, was worried about her dogs’ commitment to the mission.  She was the committed type, several times in fact, as a teenager, but she had been given the all clear by an on-line psychiatrist based in Great Yarmouth.  Janet was more than ready, she was Uber-ready.  She’d thought the German approach to all-out victory was the winning approach, but she hadn’t read much twentieth century military history, particularly any analysis concerning Herman Goering’s stint as head of the Luftwaffe.

Janet prepped Sid and Ruby, she could see Tracy and her ‘on-lead’ dogs, all five of them up ahead.  ‘Tracy’, she was such an amateur, she won’t be missed by anyone, except her immediate family, which was fairly extensive according to her social media account, which Janet, occasionally, visited several times a day.

“Sid! – Go boy, Go!”

Sid ran towards Tracy.  Janet laughed out loud, tears of joy ran down one cheek, a biological malfunction that was unexplainable.

“Ruby! – Go Girl, Go!”

Ruby ran in the complete opposite direction expected.  Ruby was running, heavily armed with Cecil’s armoury, towards the Park’s exit.  Janet didn’t have to time to rewire Ruby, Ruby had abandoned the mission, and Ruby had gone ‘rogue’.  Sid on the other hand was very near his target, the ‘Tracy’.  But just then, he stopped, some of the pensioners bread had fallen out of their pockets as they’d made their way to meet up with their eider and mallard friends.  Sid couldn’t believe his luck – ‘dry white bread!’  Sid started to swallow the stuff whole, this gluttony led him away from Tracy, and towards three pensioners contemplating the wonder of dry duck backs.

Sid was now twenty-five yards, twenty-three yards, twenty-one yards, twenty-yards away

“Kaaaboooom!! – Rataratarataratarataratarataratarataratarata – prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!”

Three pensioners, their flesh zipping past thin tree branches, their geriatric howls of pain and torment filled the duck pond area of the local park.  All fell head first into a crowded pond of eider and mallard, the ducks themselves appeared neither shocked nor bothered by this violent incursion, because it happened a lot, on weekends, when local inebriated youth often played ‘catch the duck’.

Janet stood stiffly still, Tracy had left the scene, she was running uphill towards the car park. Janet was a quick thinker, just not a very good military strategist.  She sprinted towards Sid-

“Here Boy.  Here Sid!”

Sid was in the classic spaniel position, nose down and indifferent to his manslaughter, looking for at least one more piece of dry white bread.  Janet grabbed him by the collar, put him under her right arm, undid the safety catch on Cecil’s’ armoury, and ran up the hill towards Tracy, who was labouring.  Tracy was still on part one of her slimming DVD, whereas Janet on the other hand, had very low cholesterol.

“Tracy you bitch!  Tracy!  Stop or I’ll shoot!”

Janet was only ten feet behind Tracy, who by now, had sussed what was happening, that she was the target of an assassination attempt by a locally based business competitor armed with a well-primed spaniel.

Tracy fell to her knees.

“Don’t shoot me Janet!  Please! Let me live.  Let the dogs live!”
“You bitch Tracy.  You stole customers from me you piece of dog-shit!”
“No Janet, I never, I just offered a more comprehensive service than you, that’s all.  It was healthy competition on customer service.  We all charge the same rate for our walks, so what else was I to do?!  What else was I to do?!  Pray tell – Whaaat elllssse waaass Iiiii toooo doooo!!”

Janet was stumped, she didn’t have an answer.  Tracy was right, healthy competition was the thing that kept businesses virile, her own business had become more streamlined, she’d tidied up her website, coloured-in her local marketing campaign of self-printed posters, and all because of Tracy.  Janet had realised, there and then, Tracy had in fact saved Janet’s business from becoming stagnant, irrelevant, behind the times, realised it was Tracy who had made Janet the much better business woman than Tracy.  Janet helped Tracy to her feet, de-activated Sid, and together, they walked off slowly towards their separate second-hand transit vehicles.

Meanwhile, Ruby had been cornered by the RSPCA, an Army Bomb Disposal Team, and the Police Special Forces Unit.  Ruby was refusing to surrender and was leading the National Six O Clock News.


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