We have been weighed. Between us, we have lost 200g which in real money is 8oz which in real life is ENOUGH. The Fairy is rather confused, but being in receipt of all relevant information, I fully comprehend the situation.
We have bested her. My superior intellect and highly advanced survival skills have ensured Chicken and I have not starved to death. It is not easy to keep a good dog down – and I happen to be Great.
As soon as I realised that the diet situation was to be ongoing, I formed a secret organization called FOOD CLUB.
The first rule of Food Club is: You do not talk about Food Club. The second rule of Food Club is: You do not talk about Food Club.
This being the case, and bearing in mind my absolute devotion to rules and regulations, I only intend to hint at my activities as a member of Food Club.
Let’s just say that the hedgehogs who have invaded my garden are not as big as they could have been, had they made it to the cake and peanut butter before I did. Let’s just say that The Fairy wasn’t loosing her mind when she couldn’t locate the digestives that she was sure she had purchased at the supermarket. Let’s just say, for arguments sake, that certain cupboards and a certain fridge freezer may not be as well stocked as they are believed to be.
On the plus side, my reputation as a stealth operative is completely intact.
Monty The Great
Chicken has made a remarkable recovery and is almost back to her normal self. I put this down to the care and attention that I have been administering diligently, and to the fact that she is made of elastic and high tension springs.
Yesterday I licked her ear as I am now allowed near her head without being warned off. She is more playful with me and her tail is wagging more. It remains to be seen whether this is a good or a bad thing. I have been on the receiving end of that tail once too often.
Now, with regards to food, the first rule of engagement is of the upmost importance and is universally accepted by all dogs:
1. All unattended and exposed food belongs to the dog.
For the purposes of this article, unattended is defined as being not in the hands of an adult. Exposed refers to any food accessible to the dog, up to and including items located after a thorough search of bags and cupboards.
As the leader, I have a duty to provide for all the members of my unit. To this end, after a well executed and stealth-like mission, I managed to secure two bagels for our breakfast. Timing was paramount, and my action would not have been discovered had it not been for Chicken’s lack of urgency.
I have scheduled in some training on statutory procedures to be followed by all.
I do not want Chicken being arrested for possession of stolen property.
Eat or conceal. PROPERLY
In my line of work, it is important to think on your feet. Sometimes it is necessary to Improvise, Adapt and Overcome. This is where I excel. When the going gets tough, as they say, the tough get going. And the going is particularly tough at the moment with regards to the food situation and to Chicken’s teeth.
I have good news regarding her recovery. I accompanied her to the vets this morning for her check up. Ordinarily I wouldn’t set foot in the place, but I was there to support Chicken. I did a rather good demonstration of how one might shake if one were frightened of the vets, which everybody present found very useful. The vet was pleased with her progress so we are all very relieved. The Fairy has given both of us extra attention and has hand-fed Chicken with all sorts of nice things. I’m glad to say that I was also given some of this lovely PROPER food, in the interest of fairness.
Then it came to me. A flash of inspiration so profound that even I was stunned by my own brilliance. Improvise, adapt and overcome.
These are the facts:
- We were put on a diet of gravel.
- Chicken had some teeth removed.
- For a period of three days we were both given soft chicken, mince, black pudding and ham.
So, without even referring to the official text book, I have identified a method of obtaining good quality food for a period of at least three days: book Chicken into the vets. It’s that simple!
Hear me out.
Chicken has 26 teeth left, which in theory could mean up to 78 days of decent food if she were to have one tooth extracted at a time, and we were to get soft cooked real meat for three days after each extraction. I’m sure she will agree that that will be worth the small amount of discomfort she may feel.
Stunned by my own brilliance
I have not yet ironed out all the details, but I intend to put the idea to Chicken as soon as she stops drooling.
Monty The Great
Phraa lemph broooo. Slaph blur pree. Vet phoo glaa going again snall shloo never. Brrrrree phrass sloff. Blum blum blum!
Chlichen phf phf phf xxx
I will be the first to admit that in recent times I have rather lost sight of who I am. I put this down to the shock that my body has been going through, since the illegal withdrawing of the approved a la carte menu. Though fully aware of this crime against humanity, I felt unable to rally myself to action.
Luckily, I have my right hand man Chicken looking out for me. Admittedly, she went about administering help in a rather uncouth fashion, but administer help she did. By literally throwing me a lifeline. In the form of a very large book.
The book which roused me from my stupor was none other than the highly acclaimed 1996 addition of How To Win Yourself A Home And Control Your Humans Once You Get There.
I cannot believe that I did not immediately refer to this volume! I have used this text during many of my lectures to recently retired greyhounds to great effect. I intend to follow – to the letter – all the instructions given in the chapter about food. The Fairy is no match for me!
On a more serious note: teeth. Mine are excellent. Mine are the best teeth that the vet has ever seen on a greyhound. They are made of reinforced concrete and have side-impact protection bars installed as standard. They are big, strong, and responsible for many of the compliments that I receive on a daily basis.
Chicken’s, on the other hand, are rubbish. So rubbish in fact, that she has had to have six of them taken out. She is a little out of sorts at the moment but is recovering well. A bit droolly but I’m hoping that passes.
She’s in safe hands
She has nothing to fear. From this moment on I will be taking full responsibility for her rehabilitation and wellbeing. I consider it an honour to be able to look after her. She is in safe hands.
THE FAT GREYHOUND
Once upon a there was a big dog called Monty McDonty and he was big. He did live with a beautiful princess who is called Princess Chicken. They did live with a servant who did bring them lovely food food all the day.
Monty McDonty one day did start to get greedy and did start to all eat too much everything. Roll sausage in a bag. Then he did get lazy and he did get chubby chubby bum bum.
Beautiful Princess Chicken did say to him to stop all eating too much and get out doing the big exercising but Monty McDonty was thickie so didn’t listen.
So he did get all more chubby.
One day, in the daytime they did both go to see the man at the big kennels and he did say that I was the beautiful Princess Chicken was beautiful, but that Monty McDonty was all too biggy big. So the servant did put him on a diet.
Then the beautiful Princess Chicken did find out that I was on a diet too and I did blame Monty McDonty because it is all his fault. So the beautiful Princess Chicken did deciding and did decide to kick him in the head but then she did throw a big book at him instead and it did bounce off his chubby bum.
Then she did change his name to Fatty McFatface.
So I win the end.
Lazy greyhound Fatty McFatface
By Beautiful Chicken
Is it legal?
This is the question I have put to the RSPCA; the vet; the lady who runs the rehoming centre where we came from; the trainer who had the honour of looking after me for four years; the local NHS representative; Bob at the Council; the manager of the dogfood shop we are banned from for weeing repeatedly on their stock, and the postman.
Is it legal to feed thoroughbred greyhounds on grit and builders’ gravel?
The answer apparently, is yes. As long as said grit and builders’ gravel is labelled as dog food.
Outrageous! Where are my sausages? My steaks? My 12 dentastix a day, my cakes, my ham sandwiches, my black pudding, my roast chicken, my custard creams and my ice-cream? I miss them.
Just because somebody with 40 years experience of working with greyhounds said I was slightly overweight, doesn’t mean I am. It certainly doesn’t mean I should be put on a diet. Outrageous!
Monty is all not coping with not being the Prime Ministers; he is not coping with being inside because of the hotty hot, and he is not coping with being on the big diet.
I was all going to kick him in the head to make him stop doing the tantrumming but I did deciding and did decide not to stop him because he did have his teeth with him.
It is entirely possible that Chicken and I may not be the Prime Ministers. This is the conclusion I have drawn, after looking at all the available evidence. The official line is that our Greyhounds In Charge Party was never put forward to run in the election. I, however, smell CONSPIRACY.
I intend to continue with my fight, and will not stop until I have taken up my rightful place as leader of this country. Chicken concurs. Our Deputy Prime Minister has literally been hung out to dry. On the washing line. The Mum of our Refreshments Minister, Miss Daisydog, said it was a hung parliament and she was right. Big Ted concurs.
For the last few days, Chicken and I have been held prisoner in our own unit. There was some talk of The Fairy saying that the patio was hurting her feet, as a result of which, we are not allowed to go for walks. This makes no sense at all. It is very cool in the living room so I see no reason why anybody would suggest it is too hot to go for a simple walk. I have made my objections known. Unfortunately, all my jumping around and protestations have had a nil effect.
So. I’m not the Prime Minister yet, I’m stuck in the house because of a small amount of weather, AND I have been informed that I am on a diet. Hoorah.
I did go to see the vetty vet and Monty McDonty did not all go with me because he did have something important to do in his office and he didn’t come out his office so we left him.
Then the vetty vet did say I was incompetent and then she did try to give me a biscuit but I did decidered not to eat it because Monty did say he doesn’t eat anything the vetty vet does gives him until he has had it analysed for medicinal ingredients and determined it to be necessary. He did say the vetty vet tries to trick him into eating medicine but he doesn’t fall for it, so I did decide not to fall over either. The vetty vet did say she could give me medicine to make me non-incompetent so I is going to ask Monty if this is necessary.
When I did gets home I did tell Monty that the vet did say I was incompetent and he was all angry mad and did standing up for me so I does love him again today. He did say that telling young ladies that they is incompetent damages their self steam and limits their pot end shells. He did say he was going to give her a piece of his mind but he didn’t know when he would all get the time to go down there.
Me being non-incompetent
He did say I was not incompetent at all and that I was very competent and useful at times and that there was much things I was all goody at so I didn’t need to eat the medicine. I did ask him to tell me all the things I was goody at and he did say there was too many loads to mention. Then I did ask him to say just one thing that I was goody at and he did say it was all better if he did write everything down on a big list and he did go in his office to plan my big list.
He is still there.
Working on my big list.