Mr Scruff

The Blonde likes to go to Primrose Hill and pose around with me on the end of a lead, well she’s on the end of the lead really but I play along with her.  Thing is I’m a mongrel and a pretty scruffy one at that, there’s definitely a touch of the terrier in me but what the rest is, honestly gawd only knows but this is what makes me so intelligent innit and this is the way the doggy gods made me.  The Blonde and I woz in the boozer the other day, and we bumped into the bloke who tortures me, apparently it’s called ‘grooming’.  Oh ok. Perhaps that’s wot they should do to criminals then.  Maybe they should get their heads strapped into a leather harness and get shaved all over, in the name of ‘grooming’.  Maybe they should have a psycho with a chain saw cut their paws off! To make matters really bad, The Blond actually pays for this to happen to me! Shocking. If the rescue home knew about this, honestly I’d get rehoused in a second.  She buys me expensive organic treats afterwards so I’m trying to forgive her, through therapy, I’m sure I’ll find a way. Anyway, I’m sat on the floor in the boozer, sniffing around for scraps, The Blonde is a veggie so home cooking is duller than my labrador mate Malone, when I overheard the torture geezer saying he’s got some pedigree pups for sale.  The Blonde goes all gooey eyed and starts asking how old, what do they look like and all that.  Apparently they are a cross between a Beagle and a King Charles Cavalier and this nonce has called em Beagliers! She reckons she’s going to see them this Saturday, pah, over this pooches dead body she is.  I’ve got a masterplan, i’m digging a massive hole and hiding all the keys in there.  There’s no way I’m being replaced by a pedigree on Primrose Hill.  Is it coz I iz black and white? Woof x