Arts and Crufts!

‘I’ve been thinking guv.’

I’m not sure how I should react to such a sentence from the boy Bing.  I certainly have to try and remember that, being a hound, the lad has a tendency to view matters from a slightly different angle to homosapiens.

‘Thinking Bingo?’

‘Certainly governor, certainly.’

The clear eager eyes are observing me, and for some reason I find myself back in the classroom, where, as a lad my mind was apt to wander. There, suddenly I’d come back to earth and find myself looking into the inquiring eyes of a teacher, who’d just asked a question to which I had not a clue as to its nature, let alone the remote possibility a suitable answer!

I brace myself, and thus our conversation progresses in this manner.

‘And, um…what have you been thinking about?’

‘Well it’s like this old poop, ever since Crufts the other day, and that magnificent win, I’ve been wondering why it is that yours truly hasn’t been available for such an event and so forth and suchlike?’

‘And have you come to any conclusions Bing?’

‘Frankly I’m mystified guv.’

By now my mind is racing and I’m wondering if I can find a suitable reply to the lads stunning question.

‘Well it’s like this Bing….’

‘Yes guv?’

(Inspiration, please fall upon this aged poops brow. A small thought flutters down from who knows where.)

‘You know when we return from a stroll, and because of the wind, rain and muddy puddles etc, it becomes necessary to give you a thorough drying and…….’

(Thank goodness my mind’s working….)

‘….we then have to tackle the business of giving you a jolly good brushing from hooter to tail?’

The lads eyes narrow suspiciously. I press on.

‘Well lets face it young fruit, you’re not exactly the easiest chap to brush are you?’

He blinks, and the pressing continues…..

‘Bing can you honestly say that you’d be prepared to be brushed and brushed and brushed again, in order to appear in such a state that would be suitable and to the liking of the folk who do the judging?’

‘Well…..?’

‘You have what I would term a natural charm, but I fear in truth, you are not the shop for titivation and smelling like roses.’

‘Blimey, roses guv?’

‘Well, all the entries into the competition, are the sort that love being brushed, and generally dandified, to appeal to what the judges believe to be correct.’

‘Stone me old poop, my gob has never been so smacked!’

(I'm on a real roll...I press on!)

‘Bing, you are a natural, with the um…er…sort of breeding...um...ideal for what you do!’

‘Well I’ll be blooming well blowed.’

‘Be well and truly bloomingly blowed young Bing. Leave Crufts to those that feel comfortable with it, you are undoubtably…..number one in a field of one!’

‘Blimey.’

‘Blimey indeed.’

The lads eyes, which had widened as I'd built to a suitably grand finale, looked pleased with my pithy summation.

Feeling that this particular roll could roll a tad further; in short I was on tip-top form; I decided to see, if there was anything else I could help the lad with.

‘Well aged wheezer, as it happens there is something else.’

‘Ask away young Bing, ask away!’

(And here comes the 'Art' bit of the title folks.)

‘Any chance..........

of a snack or three?