kato age two

Kato Walk - Human or Chips?

As usual we picked our way through the discarded beer cans, cheap wine bottles, kitchen accessories and litter. Kato stopped and dug her paws in. Because she had chanced upon the holy grail of canine urban foraging.

Discarded Chips.

In amongst the broken bread bins and torn bin bags there could have been the Ark of the Covenant and Tutankhamen’s spare mask but these were ignored by  Kato. If Kato had Indiana Frodi’s wits she would have acted nonchalant, pretended to be selecting a blade of grass to pee on and then swiftly swallowed the chips, paper and all. But no this is Kato, with eyes like saucers she gave a delighted yap and did an all over shake. “Barking get in!” she woofed loudly, alerting the entire canine neighbourhood that there were Discarded Chips in the rat sector of Field One

“Leave it!” I commanded in the tone reserved for telling her to not to put her head in the oven or take a short cut across molten lava.

We exchanged a look. Our eyes fixed on each other. Me human you dog. An entire shelf of dog training books and 3 terms at posh dog school were at stake here.

Kato considered - Human or chips?

An eerie quiet descended, the birds fell silent. I became aware of a chilling wind on my face. Suddenly Kato and I were in some post-Apocalyptic monochrome urban landscape at the edge of time. Just one woman and her dog in a fierce battle of mental determination that can only end in...

“You being sick” I said

“It was once!” Kato woofed indignantly

“Every time Kato, every single fkin time you eat crap off the floor and you spend the rest of the day like a hungover teenager swearing you’re never eating random stuff that hasn’t come out of a Butchers tin and served in your Special Bowl ever again. And who has to clean it up eh?” I said “So LEAVE. IT”

Kato closed her eyes, scowled, took one pace forward and had a sullen wee instead.

“Good girl!” I said jubilant “Who’s a clever girl then?!”

We continued our walk but then heard a gleeful woof from behind us. A Staffordshire on an extender lead was dragging its owner towards the rat sector of Field One.


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