May 26th 2006
â€œItâ€™s Friday,â€ said The Trouble, entering the kitchen.
â€œAll day.â€â€œWe always have a Chinese on a Friday, or a Thai.â€
â€œRight, weâ€™re having sliced beef in black bean sauce.â€
â€œThen why are you making meatballs?â€â€œTheyâ€™re for the Pollittâ€™s dog.â€
â€œYouâ€™re going to try feeding it? In the hope it will stop barking?â€
â€œIn the certain knowledge it will stop barking.â€
I put The Trouble in the picture as I added the twelve crushed sleeping pills to the pound of Tesco’s steak mince and formed it into two eight ounce balls. I half-expected her to raise some opposition to my plan as she used to be in the RSPCA until she swerved to miss a cat and suffered a whiplash injury, but none came. No doubt sheâ€™s as heartily pissed off with You Twatâ€™s barking and howling as I am. â€œRight,â€ I said, â€œyou get yourself upstairs and watch out of the back bedroom window and tell me if I hit the target.â€
â€œArenâ€™t you going to cook the meatballs first?â€
â€œNo, they might disintegrate in flight if I cook them.â€
â€œYouâ€™ll give the dog worms, feeding it raw meat.â€
â€œIt wonâ€™t be worrying about having worms, itâ€™ll be asleep. I donâ€™t think the worms will be too active either.â€The Trouble went up to the bedroom and I went out into the back garden. You Twat was howling fit to burst. Iâ€™d already been down to the park for half-an-hourâ€™s practice to get my range but even so decided to take the precaution of another practice throw in situ with a large pebble of around the same weight. I took up my position and tossed the pebble into the Pollittâ€™s garden. The howling increased.
â€œYouâ€™ve hit the dog,â€ said The Trouble, from the open bedroom window.â€
â€œGood.â€ Having found my range I then expertly tossed the first of the meatballs. The barking stopped. I looked up to The Trouble. â€œDid it land in the target area?â€
â€œWhatâ€™s happening? Is the dog eating it?â€
â€œItâ€™s sniffing at it.â€
I waited a moment or two. â€œWell?â€
â€œItâ€™s still sniffing atâ€¦.no, no itâ€™s turned its nose up at it, itâ€™s turned away.â€
â€œYou should have cooked it.â€
I had to admit she could be right. After all the meat in tins of dog food is cooked. I decided to leave it for the time being in the hope that You Twat might change its mind and eat it eventually. If it didnâ€™t Iâ€™d have another go with a cooked meatball at the next available opportunity.
The barking continued until the Pollitts arrived home so it looks like You Twat continued to ignore the meatball, either that or it ate and its got a stronger constitution than Iâ€™d given it credit for. Â Â Â Â