Every dog has his … sausage?


D’you like my training jacket?

No, it isn’t like a training bra or training pants that babies use. I’ve been clean and dry since I was a pup – and that was a while ago, I don’t mind telling you. And before you ask, I ain’t about to grow man-boobs or whatever the equivalent is for fat dogs. I may be a bit of a porker, but I’m not that bad.

No, the idea of this is to make me stronger. There’s about a kilo and a half of weights sewn into the jacket. That’d be ten to fifteen kilos on the average human. There’s a sausage dangling from a string up there. I can see it. I can smell it. If I close my eyes I can practically taste it. Fair makes me drool, it does.

They want me to jump up to try and grab it, but I’m wise to them. They’ll judge how high I can jump and lift the sausage just a little bit higher. That way, they reckon, I’ll jump more and more and get stronger each time.

But I won’t give them that satisfaction. I can sit here looking at it longer than they can sit there looking at me. You know what they’re like with their kids, don’t you? They play a silly game, like hiding behind their hands then opening them and shouting ‘boo’. Cracks the kids up, it does, so they do it again… and again. Eventually, they get tired of it and stop. And the kid screams. Why? Cos the kit ain’t bored of it. It wants more, but they can’t keep it up.

You wait. In a minute, one of them will say that they can’t sit here all day watching me, that I can’t get the sausage without jumping for it and that when they come back, they’ll know if I’ve jumped high enough. So they’ll go away.

Ever heard of telekinesis?

Heh heh heh…

This was written in response to Kreative Kue 245 published on this site.

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