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I have 3 dog stories!
The first one is this dog that looked like Lassie, that my Brother's mate used to have. Stupid dog, it ran at my cat from the end of the garden, but the cat didn't even flinch because it knew one thing that the dog didn't - there was a patio door between them. Splat! I'm surprised the door didn't smash, actually - God bless British window safety standards.
Hound ye second was an equally stupid dog, that belonged to my Aunt. Thie mutt made it through the patio doors, but got tangled up in the Venitian blinds, bringing them crashing down and smothering the poor blighter. Then I think my Aunt hit it because it was so stupid, and made it work off the cost of the repair of the blinds by temping at SKB.
My last fantastic story involves one of those crappy little dogs that all Essex wideboys seem to have - y'know, those little ones that are half bulldog, half doberman, all dumb. My ultra-clever Brother brought it round - without a lead on - and surprise, surprise, it went for the cats. But one of my cats is a bit feral, so this dog got the shock of it's life when it suddenly found Pansy on it's back, shredding it to bits! I had to seperate them, but the cat chose to take on my arm instead, then hid in my parents room for a bit (the cat, not me). I bled half to death, whilst my Brother laughed like the retard he is. He's off work with a bad back, hernia and mangled foot - who's laughing now, barrel-boy!? Hahahahahahaha - that's right, me!
I'm so bored.
The first one is this dog that looked like Lassie, that my Brother's mate used to have. Stupid dog, it ran at my cat from the end of the garden, but the cat didn't even flinch because it knew one thing that the dog didn't - there was a patio door between them. Splat! I'm surprised the door didn't smash, actually - God bless British window safety standards.
Hound ye second was an equally stupid dog, that belonged to my Aunt. Thie mutt made it through the patio doors, but got tangled up in the Venitian blinds, bringing them crashing down and smothering the poor blighter. Then I think my Aunt hit it because it was so stupid, and made it work off the cost of the repair of the blinds by temping at SKB.
My last fantastic story involves one of those crappy little dogs that all Essex wideboys seem to have - y'know, those little ones that are half bulldog, half doberman, all dumb. My ultra-clever Brother brought it round - without a lead on - and surprise, surprise, it went for the cats. But one of my cats is a bit feral, so this dog got the shock of it's life when it suddenly found Pansy on it's back, shredding it to bits! I had to seperate them, but the cat chose to take on my arm instead, then hid in my parents room for a bit (the cat, not me). I bled half to death, whilst my Brother laughed like the retard he is. He's off work with a bad back, hernia and mangled foot - who's laughing now, barrel-boy!? Hahahahahahaha - that's right, me!
I'm so bored.
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Mattributé wrote:
> My mum eats dog biscuits, on occasion.
>
> And now 'Your mum's a biatch' jokes.
No she's not and I really did.
> My mum eats dog biscuits, on occasion.
>
> And now 'Your mum's a biatch' jokes.
No she's not and I really did.
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