Evil Dogs

Evil Dogs

Ahh those heady hot summer days of the school holidays in the early 1980’s.

Six weeks off school, no homework or early to bed, on a Friday we could stay up to watch “Starsky and Hutch” and followed by “Match of the day” on a Saturday.

Oh how easily pleased and innocent we all were back then chuffed to bitts with appalling weak as water police shows and a sports show containing highlights of football matches of which we already knew the result presented by a chap with a bad comb over, horrific taste in knitwear and a predilection for devious sexual practises while partaking in who can sniff the most amount of Bolivian marching powder up ones hooter competitions (allegedly).

Poor television aside life was good, stay up late perhaps ten o’clock if you were lucky, lie in bed in the morning as long as you like, then outside for fun and games in the fresh air until dinnertime.

Not a care in the world for yours truly and the gang of buffoons and idiots more commonly known as my friends and classmates.

It couldn’t last.

Enter in to this tale one of my friends (Bounce) mothers, lets call her for the purposes of this tale Mrs. Shouter.

Bounces family were from the North East of England. Mrs. Shouter however looked as if she had worked on the roads during her early years while latterly had concentrated on honing her screaming at the top of her boorish voice with disregard for any living creature within a five hundred yard radius skills.

Mrs Shouter was not the one for showing a kinder side, infact being maternal in any way shape or form to her many offspring so the very last thing she would be in need of was Bounces younger brother the gullible and highly strung Pauly hanging around the house for the whole of the school holidays hampering her world record chain smoking attempt.

So the unfortunate Bounce was saddled with the younger brother from hell and if he was saddled we were all in the same boat i.e. up crap creek while canooless, as at the slightest sign of illegality, mirth or general vandalism the moronic little sod would either threaten us with aforementioned Mrs. Shouter if he came to any physical peril or grass us all up to Her Majesty’s Constabulary.

He followed us everywhere, football training, the park, on our bikes, he was everywhere and everywhere he was fun was definitely not. Action, no swift wrath of God action was called for to bring an end to his rein of misery over our holidays.

Then that very night as we walked home from football training with the little moron in tow the opportunity presented itself to Bounce for revenge and to wreak a little havoc in to the young Pauly’s malleable mind.

The rest of this tale is pure adolescent vicious comedy gold, bear witness I only went along and played the straight man (honest).

We were passing a huge old house that was well set back from the road set in a large wooded garden and surrounded by a massive sandstone wall. The driveway had big wooden electrically operated gates that were closed also preventing a view of the house and estate like garden.

“Woof, woof, woof” bellowed the dogs at the other side of the wall.

These dogs were clearly not poodles but more like Shetland ponies with teeth and very short fuses. We all jumped out of our boots, as the very pavement under our feet seemed to shake at the loudness and depth of these dogs’ barks.

“Waaaaaaaa, What’s that? ” screeched Pauly.

Bounce “It’s the evil dogs, quick run.”

We all three showed our would be foes a clean pair of heels and did not stop running until the end of the next road stopping through lack of oxygen to catch our breath lying on the grass beside the phone box.

Pauly “What do you mean evil dogs?”

I shot a glance at Bounce, face absolutely deadpan.

Bounce “ That house was owned by a retired doctor who kept lots of dogs, mostly Alsatians and Bull mastiffs. Anyway the old fella past away a few years ago leaving the dogs in the garden and with no family of his own the dogs have ran roughshod over the grounds for years, I heard dad say that there are about twenty of them now and everyone even the police are to scared to attempt to go in and remove them.”

I’m looking Bounce directly in the eye as he spins this tale to the feeble minded Pauly and still not a flicker.

Bounce though elaborates at this stage even further “We were on our way home from football training a couple of weeks ago walking past the house just as we did tonight when the gate opened and a massive white dog with huge teeth and a head the size of a bull’s came out and chased us all the way home. We barely got away with our lives and the dog shouted after us that if he ever caught us he would bite off our balls.”

Pauly “Bite off your balls?”

Bounce “Yes, I think it must be their favourite food, That’s the first time we have passed the house since that night but they must still be after us. Eh?” said Bounce looking at me.

Me “ Oh yeh, that’s it I’m off before they come looking for us”

I look at Bounce he looks at me once again not a flicker. Pauly on the other hand looks as though he is about to have a conniption, as he is the colour of Casper the ghost’s enemic dead brother.

Bounce being the industrious chap he was had a paper round on which he had to walk the family pet a black and white Border Collie called “Sandy”.

You can tell where this is going cant you?

On return from his news delivery/dog-walking employ had the grand idea to compound our arch nemesis’s fears by placing Sandy’s paws in the flowerbed below Pauly’s bedroom window and while holding the hound round the midriff proceeded to leave muddy paw prints all over Pauly’s and his bedroom window and window frame, all of this undetected by anyone in the Shouter household as the curtains were all still closed as perish the lurid thought Mr. Shouter being forced to profligate the pikey population with his navvy of a spouse.

On entering the house Bounce was in the kitchen having his flakes whereupon young Pauly entered the kitchen.

Bounce “Did you hear that last night?”

Pauly “What?”

Bounce “I heard noises in the middle of the night outside, looked out and saw the big white dog. He was after us saying that the young ones balls are mine and you can have the other two’s.”

Pauly by now in Bounces own words was “Pissing his pants” and “Catatonic” at the prospect of having his nether regions penetrated by rovers nashers. For complete dramatic effect bounce then took his younger brother outside to show him the paw prints.

Job Done!

Not so, Bounce the sadist took in one step beyond the pale with a masterstroke of Machiavellian proportions. Later that day he wrote a letter in broken evil dog English, which read.

“Pauly we are on to you. Tonight I will have your balls, there is no escape, we have the spare key to your house from the garden” and for complete overkill signed evil Dogs paw print from Sandy.

Masterstroke.

Bounce then placed the letter in-between Paul’s pillow and pillowcase cover.

Move ahead to eight thirty that evening, Bounce had been a good chap all day cutting grass, washing cars and so fourth therefore above any parental suspicion of any wrong doing.

O’ the naivety of youth.

“Young Pauly bed” screeched Mrs. Shouter.

After much time wasting and general dillydallying as is the way of young chaps banished to bed before there calling Pauly eventually admitted defeat and Bounce heard from his granstand seat in the sitting room the bedroom door close and the light switch click off.

“Arrrrrrrrrrrr” screamed young Pauly entering the living room with tears streaming down his face with the letter in hand franticly blurting out the whole tale to Mr. and Mrs. Shouter in total terror.

Doomed, phone calls were made, punishments administered and promises made as to our future conduct.

I still thought it was funny, even with thick ears.