As Michael Cade trundled on down Great Junction Street,
he thought he saw Yosemite Sam heading his way. It
was, of course, Clint McMurdo, who eyed Rudy the daschund,
tucked securely under Michael's arm, with extreme
the critter down, mister,' drawled Clint.
struggled to erase the image of the deranged redheaded
cartoon cowboy from his scarred imagination. Eventually,
he decided a wisecracking grey rabbit chewing a carrot
was not about to make an appearance and questioned
put the varmint down and drop your weapon.' Clint
was referring to the paraffin lamp the ex children's
TV presenter carried with him everywhere.
not loaded,' explained Michael. 'In fact, it hasn't
said a word to me in years. I think he must be sickening
looked puzzled. Portable lighting apparatus, paraffin
or otherwise, were not his territory. He quickly whipped
out his pointing gun hand.
'Pcheeew! Reach for the skies!'
Michael instinctively raised his hands and in the
process let Rudy drop to the street yelping as he
leapt to avoid the falling lamp which shattered instantly
with a thunderous bang. Well past its prime and fat
enough to actually bounce, the agile daschund was
not nimble enough to escape every piece of shattering
glass, and a shard lodged itself in his right paw.
than a roadrunner, Michael was down on the ground
to simultaneously comfort his squealing pet and mourn
his smashed lamp.
Rudy, Rudy, Rudy! You poor thing.' He yanked the splinter
from the dog's bleeding paw and shot Clint a withering
glance. 'You stupid, stupid man,' he wailed.
the two men looked around them bewildered as a distorted
voice rang out:
away from the dog and throw down your weaponth!'
police car had pulled up across the street and a constable
was crouched behind it with a loudhailer.
'It's the Leith police!' smiled Clint.
your handth above your headth!'
men complied and stared in disbelief at the scene
before them. All around, pedestrians had ducked for
cover, obviously under the impression that the exploding
lamp had been a gunshot. The passing policemen had
made the same assumption. The one with the lisp and
the megaphone made his way over to the incredulous
alright, officer,' pleaded Michael. 'It's his fingers.
They're not loaded.'
a quick frisk, the constable proceeded to handcuff
them and escorted them over the road where he bundled
them into the back seat of the vehicle.
Rudy!' yelled Michael.
constable went to collect the injured animal which
growled as he picked it up. 'Ith thith a thothage
dog?' he asked as he roughly threw it in beside his
It's a daschund,' said Michael, cradling the beast
to his breast and sobbing quietly.
driver of the car turned to his colleague. 'Where's
the firearm?' he asked.
didn't find any. But we'll take them in anyway. They
were cauthing a fracas.'