I got well and truly set up today! I was a tad suspicious from the off when mum said “…you’re coming with me today to meet my friend Stephanie…”. Mum never takes me with her when she’s meeting friends - I was right to be suspicious.
We drove to this big town near where we live and there were loads of folk and traffic and it made me a bit nervous ‘cause I’m used to peace and quiet now – in fact I’m a teensy bit reclusive these days if truth be known. Anyway, we ended up in this café place where she was meeting Stephanie and…surprise, surprise…Stephanie walked in with her new dog – a French Bulldog called Chloe. Well, it just went downhill from there. As soon as she walked in this Chloe looked me up and down and said “…eef my mozzer zinks zat I’m going to get off with yous, yous deeekhead, she’s got anozzer zink coming…” well, you could have knocked me down with a feather. Not only could she speak english, albeit with a strange accent, but she was a cheeky little madam with it. I was rendered momentarily speechless. She was a mere pup for god’s sake. I doubt she was six months old. How dare she call me a dickhead? Then the naughty little bint merely simpered in mum’s direction as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and mum went all soppy and when she goes soppy her voice becomes all squeaky and she’s squeaking “…say hello to Chloe, Henry…” SAY HELLO TO CHLOE? THE LITTLE BITCH HAS JUST CALLED ME A DICKHEAD! Then, to add insult to injury mum’s saying “...oh isn’t she gorgeous? Oh I want one....” I WANT ONE? IS SHE CRAZY? HAVE YOU SEEN A FRENCH BULLDOG? They are the ugliest…..I am lost for words, again. They look as if bits of body parts of all different breeds of dog have been thrown together at random – check this out if you don’t believe me French Bulldogs.
It gets worse. When I finally find my voice, instead of coming back with a smart retort I hear myself asking meekly “How come you can speak english?”
She looked at me with a face dripping with derision and said, “How come you can’t speak lerrfransay?”
“Lerrfransay?” I ask, “What’s that?”
“Phuh!” she scoffed. “Eet eez only zee most brilliant of zee languages in zee whole world yous stupid onglish. What you zink our mozzers speak now?”
I listened and they were uttering that gobbledygook that all french people utter, and mum when she’s with them.
“Are you telling me that’s a language?” I asked, gobsmacked.
“Of course eediot.”
“It can’t be,” I said, still gobsmacked. “It’s just a load of noise.”
“Dont be reediculous. Did you not just hear your own mozzer say zat I was 'trayminyon'?”
“Trayminyon?” I asked. “That means something?”
“Of course eediot. It means ‘very cute’.”
“So they’re talking together in another language?” I asked, amazed – whilst I’d guessed that the gobbledygook must be some rudimentary form of communication I’d never once thought it would be a fully-formed patois.
“Duh….Yes. I was right yous are a deeekhead.”
Well, I’d had enough by then, not only was I hugely embarrassed that I didn’t know about this lerrfransay thing but I was being dissed by a mere cheeky pup.
“Right! Enough of the insults you young whippersnapper,” I said firmly - finally I was responding with authority.
“Why? What you goin to do about it grandad greybeard?”
GRANDAD! ME? HOW DARE SHE?
Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t condone the use of violence to put somedog in their place, but I’m in the minority – most dogs do. Mum dogs in particular always give their pups a quick nip if they’re playing up. I got nipped a few times and it never did me any harm. I’ve certainly never nipped a lady dog before, but believe me this Chloe was no lady and I’d been pushed to breaking point. It was only a little nip to her behind but wow did she play up. All hell broke loose. The naughty little minx howled as if I’d sunk my teeth into her jugular and mum was outraged. As she chastised me, nasty little bitch Chloe hissed.
“I going get yous for zis. Just yous vait till next time yous deeekhead onglish,” then she carried on pretending to look traumatised. I sincerely hope there WON’T be a next time.
As you can imagine I am now well and truly in the ‘doghouse’ with mum. She was furious, and told Uncle Hugh that I’d been “…a right little bully to poor, sweet little Chloe…”. POOR, SWEET LITTLE CHLOE? MORE LIKE DAUGHTER OF SATAN! I feel terribly wounded that I’ve been made to look the monster simply for putting the little madam in her place. Life truly is a bitch at times.
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