Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Asbo Eats All The Pies
While I seldom have any clear idea of what I am going to write about here, I can usually rely on Asbo to provide some inspiration during our early morning promenade.
*Oh, before I continue, whatever part of the world you are in make sure your breakfast is consumed and well settled. Err… and children turn away….
Right then who is left? Hands up. Hmm the usual suspects*
Asbo runs along snorting and snuffling close to the ground. He is mine sweeping for something that he can make a dogs breakfast out of. No one could call him a fussy eater. Anything that might remotely once have born the spark of life is dragged out for a crunchy snack. I have recently mentioned the deliquescing shellfish of which he is fond. The odour of rotting 'moules chaude au soleil', washed down by green puddle that smells of rotting cabbage is one of his early walk staples. ( Did I say that I wouldn’t mangle the French language again? I lied.)
Another treat that abounds in his al fresco deli at this time of year is the dead baby bird. You know the ones. Crashed to the trottoir…
…hmm French is in for a pounding today it must be the ‘eat anything’culinary theme and boy could I tell you a thing or two about that, I once went on a snail hunt during a thunderstorm in the fields and hedgerows of entre deux mers…Oh lord it happening again… Sally help me its all going Corbett….. Where was I …
Ah yes, the dead baby birds that you find on the pavement at this time of year. The ones with no feathers and big purple eyelids. Looking like some mini pink spam fritter with two black grapes on the end. Probably dumped out of the nest higher up and unseen, during a struggle against natural selection. Well they are quite tasty according to my canine mentor in these matters. The small bones are still soft and the general texture is akin to that mechanically recovered reprocessed ham that sells really cheap in Tesco. And they burst on the tongue. Lovely.
I remember once She Of The Town House was particularly nauseated when he bounded up with the scaly tail, and the back end, of a worse for wear rat dangling out of his front teeth. He grinned at her and crunched away; she took a deep breath of fresh air, and looked for the nearest exits.
For my money the worst is ( if you have eaten recently don’t say I didn’t warn you) the used condoms that you find along marine walk. He doesn’t mind ribbed, fruit, chocolate or plain. As long as they are fu.... Its no good, even I can't go on with this one.
Truly he is a disgusting dog.
This morning then, he surprised me. Yesterday evening someone bought a picnic and wandered out on to the cob to watch the sunset. Somehow they mislaid one of their bags and dropped it behind the chair they used. Inside the bag were two of Edwards the Butchers finest steak pies. I deduce all this from the receipt, which was the only thing that I was quick enough to retrieve. They were inside their sell by date, well wrapped and looked delicious. I am going to have to keep my own eye out more closely. His wild food campaign may have more to recommend it than I thought.
I think I shall let The Boy take him for a walk tonight though. He needs the exercise and there’s a load of cling film and a couple of tin trays due out of the dog soon.