Hilarious Story: We Went To See A Man About A Dog

Earlier this afternoon I went to one of South Manchester's lesser known parks with my sight hounds Ottey and Hooch who are lurchers, or to be more specific long dogs, and Jim (above) who is a pedigree chum of the greyhound variety.

One of the nice things about having a dog or three is the conversations. They can bring the best out in people. Almost wherever you go - perhaps not Post Office depots - people tend to admire the animals, strike up conversations that'd never happen otherwise, and often as not will tell their own heart-warming anecdotes.

With greyhounds and the like people very often express particular pleasure. That they've been rescued when any working days are done. Racing and hunting in particular, but also other working environments can be very cruel masters if and when those key performance indicators falter.

Immediately we got into the park such a conversation was struck up with a very tall chap. He looked strangely familiar. After recognising the breed this giant of a man stated jovially: "I nearly drowned one of those once!" Bit of a double take from me and the three dogs at this point.

But he repeated it. And he went on to explain that a greyhound had once been mooching about like they do among the customers outside a quayside pub. Apparently it bumped him once or twice and spilt a few drops of his precious beer. So this gent kicked it or, as he now tells it, tripped it into the Loch. I kid you not. He kicked a greyhound into a Loch. That would show it not to spill a man's beer.

Greyhounds are emphatically NOT a breed of strong swimmers. Most of them will swim if needs must but they are exceedingly nervous around deep water.

Sounds like in his desire to see the poor creature floundering about - presumably so he could have a laugh into his beer - our hero kicker looked over the quay and noticed the thing was sinking. Frozen with fear rather than swimming. He did fish his victim out. So it could have been worse. Our hero.

When I remember where I recognise him from I'll post again and then perhaps between us we can work out this cruel and heartless and jolly-in-the-retelling dog-kicker is? Meanwhile you'll have to imagine the water in the picture a foot above Jim's head to get the picture.