Last night, we took our two little Jack Russell’s out for their evening walk as usual. We couldn’t go our normal route, as there were children playing on the field. We really couldn’t be bothered with all the dishing out of fivers for new footballs, as has happened before, due to a set of Jack Russell teeth, sunk into a crying six year olds ball, so we decided to try a new route. Also, it occurred to me after the dishing out of fivers, that a podgy balding middle aged man, handing out money to small children in the middle of a field, might not look good. So off we trundle down the track. It is a dirt track, that meanders for what seems like miles, and in the distance is a farm house, surrounded by various farm buildings. The sun was still shining, and a cooling breeze, caressed our rosy cheeks, as we ambled along. (Watch out, he’s getting above myself, and getting all wordsworthy! – Don’t panic, he’ll be back to nob gags before you know it) our two Jack Russell Terrorists, as we call them, were gaily gamboling along (He’s off again), and all was a happy scene. When we had got about half way down the track, Jake and Elwood’s ears shot bolt upright, and they did that standing on three legs thing. I don’t know why dogs do this when they are trying to look alert, and menacing. Especially as the raised leg has a droopy limp paw at the end. Not very intimidating to a potential foe, I would have thought. Anyway, we followed their gaze, and saw two dogs further down the track, staring back at us. One was a bloody great big black thing, and the other looked like a little Jack Russell. I immediately jumped behind Miss Marple to protect her! Well the big one took off down the track in the opposite direction, but the little one stood his ground, like a true Jack Russell. (Jack Russell’s seem to have no concept of size). Miss Marple, who I have no problem with admitting, is the far more sensible, and pragmatic one of the two of us, suggested, we walk in the opposite direction, to avoid any unnecessary mishaps. I on the other hand for some reason, seem to see myself as some kind of Dr Doolittle. "It will be fine", I said, "I have a way with animals". I bent down, and offered the dog my hand to sniff (this is how us dog whisperers do it you know!), at which point, he bolted straight past me, and made a beeline for Jake and Elwood. Much too my relief, they all got on like a house on fire, and after much bottom and genital sniffing, made instant friends, and had a merry old time, chasing and playing down the track. Meanwhile, we had seen the big dog head towards the farmhouse, and deduced that this is where they must live. (Nothing gets past Miss Marple). It was time to head back home, as the clouds were drawing in, and time was marching on. We said goodbye to Jake and Elwood’s new friend, and headed back up the track. "Oh Christ, he’s following us" I said to Miss Marple. "Well I told you not to encourage him, but no, you had to go all David Attenborough on me, and now we can’t get rid of him. You’re so good with animals, tell him to go home". I spun round, looked at the dog, and said………."go home". Not a great effort I have to admit. We decided that we would head for home, and hope that he would get fed up, and wave us goodbye in the not too distant future. Needless to say this didn’t happen. We were nearly home, and by now starting to fret slightly. What the hell were we going to do with him? Right, I thought, we will just walk him back to the farm house. So off we trot. At the end of the track was a huge ditch. We could see the farmhouse, but couldn’t get to it. There were various tracks criss crossing the fields, and we thought one of them must lead to the house.
Apart from seeing myself as a sort of Dr Doolittle, I have joked with Miss Marple for years now, that I used to be in the SAS. Unfortunately, this has gone on for so long, that I sometimes forget that it is just a joke!, and at times of crisis like this, all my special forces tracker training bursts back into life. After many shouts of "Don’t panic, it’s this way", we were no nearer to reaching our target. By now, the blisters were forming, the wheezing had started, and the tempers were beginning to fray. We decided that we would get home, and then try to drive him to the farmhouse. We reached home, and plonked all three dogs in the car. We new there was a dirt track just outside our local town, and guessed that that, must be the way. It was a dirt track better suited to a four wheel drive, than a clapped out Vauxhall Corsa with ratterly steering, but the Dunkirk spirit spurred us on. It started off ok. A bit bumpy, but then the grass seemed to be getting longer and longer. We finally decided to abandon the mission, when we virtually couldn’t see where we were going. The heavy sighing had kicked in by now, and I had virtually accepted the fact that there were going to be three Jack Russell’s under the duvet tonight, instead of two. We had one last hope. There was another track at the other end of the village, it was this or nothing. More off roading ensued, and I would occasionally see Miss Marple, and three Jack Russell’s in the mirror, bouncing about, like some kind of bizarre dog/owner/bouncy castle extravaganza. We reached a house. There was an enormous rottweiller staring at me through the driver’s side window. Could this be the mysterious black dog that disappeared? Trouble was, there didn’t seem to be any sign of human life. Getting out of the car to knock on the door was a no no, so bibbing the horn was the only answer. Beep beep………..nothing. The rotweiller by now, had walked back to the house, and keen eyed Miss Marple had spotted that we could shut the dog in behind the gate. She waited till he wasn’t looking, and the intrepid Miss Marple crept from the car, and closed the gate. Hoorah the beast was caged!. I now fearlessly stepped from the car, and even gave the rotweiller a cheeky wink, as if to say," It’s thinking like that mate, that is behind the fact that we invented the internal combustion engine, and not you. Face it, you have been out smarted". It was just at this moment, that old Marple casually told me that the gate was only pushed to, and he could push it open at any moment if he liked! I very quickly stopped looking smug, and had to admit to myself that, internal combustion engine or not, bloody great big teeth had the upper hand right now. I started to inch back towards the car, and at the same time, whilst trying not to move my lips, like some very agitated ventriloquist, kept saying……"get gack in the car, get gack in the car"! In hindsight, I can’t really understand my thinking behind this. For one thing, the dog couldn’t understand me, and for another, why was I trying to throw my voice? Anyway, we all got back in safely, and decided to try the next house down the track. Old rotty wasn’t giving up though; he ran along side the car for several hundred yards, grinning at me. Oh good. I thought to myself, oh goody goody, goody goody good! there is another huge dog that doesn’t seem to be pleased to see me. German Shepard this time. "Nobody, and I mean NOBODY is getting out of the car this time", I announced. Our spare Jack Russell by this time had pricked up his ears, and was standing on three legs. Eureka I thought to myself, this must be the place. After much bibbing, a woman whose breasts seemed desperate to escape from her t-shirt, opened the door. "Is this your dog"? Miss Marple asked. "Oh yes, where did you find him"? She replied. We explained the whole sorry tale; she thanked us, and said he would go off with anyone. Huh, so much for my ‘Way with animals’. His name was Bob. He was a smashing little fella, and do you know, there was a part of me that was a little sad that Bob wouldn’t be under our duvet that night.
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