He is not easy to miss!!
I am think I was mention last week in my post that my next-door neighbours, the Mengeles, have been in a state of self-impose quarantine for the last six weeks. But I was not specify the reasons, which is that they were carrying out very important secret domestic science esperiments. You see, while the Mengeles are, like most inhabitants of Las Canarias, misanthropic loners who are fervently hoping that the climate change is real and the rest of the entire planet is engulfed by water/fire/snow/snot/ketchup, they are neverthenonetheless estremely fond of animals, in particular their pet dogs. Germans love their dogs, as you will have seen in a hole range of top-shelf magazines. However, the Germans are in a habit of breeding big dogs, such as the Doberman Pinschers, the German Shepherds, and the Rhodesian Ridgeback, and there is several problems that accompany the ownership of big dogs: (1) Having to replace all the dead gardeners; (2) Having to replace all the big dogs; (3) Having to replace all the small dogs; (4) Cleaning up after them.
The first problem is easy to solve. There are, after all, thousands of cheap illegal Africans washed up on the shore of the Canarias looking for a better life, and for the three or four weeks that they survive in the employ of the Mengeles, they are able to enjoy that better life. The second problem is more tiresome, because the Mengeles are the kinds of people who quickly become attached to their animals; they have so much love to give, having kept it to themselves for most of their life, particularly during the 20th century, when Germans was not having any outlet for espressing their caring side. Besides, there are no dog breeders on the Canarias to buy new dogs from, which is ironic, because the islands’ name comes from the Latin word for dog, Canis (which is originally come from the Spanish word, el perro). So every time the Mengeles are lose a dog, they have to fly back to Germany to get a new one, with all the concomitant risk of being identified, arrested, and flown to The Hague for crimes against humanity trials. Or worse, Israel, for a holiday.
The small dogs which they are always have to replace are the small dogs which belong to local Spanish owners. The Spanish are prefer small dogs rather than big dogs, which might bully them. However, the Mengeles’ big dogs are as affectionate as the Mengeles themselves, which usually results in couplings that are detrimental to the health of the small dogs. Or else they are eat them. Sometimes both.
The final problem is so obvious you cannot miss them. German dogs do not do poos. They do pies. “That is not just a pie! Is a cake!” said Frau Mengele the last time she was accidentally place her cup of tea on top of one, thinking it was a garden table her husband had bought without telling her. “Si. Is a cack cake!” I said, laughing internally and rupturing something. “Where is your glasses, Frau Mengele? Was you not realize?” In truth, the poo was not just clearly identifiable, squatting by the pool like a malevolent pouffe, it could also be smelled while we was still inside the house, and with the sliding doors shut too. But Frau Mengele is getting very old, and both her eyes and her nose are not what they used to be. What they used to be was someone else’s eyes and nose, but thanks to the Chinese government and private transplant facilities, they are now Frau Mengele’s.
After we had had our afternoon tea and scones and Frau Mengele had hired a new African to clear away the mess, she make a call to her husband, who was I think out windsurfing, and was tell him now that they are get rid finally of the big dogs and that they were going native, buying a small dog, which, as you can see in my photo above, is what they did, escept, to spare themselves the embarrassment of the small dog, they have disguise him up as a big dog, in case any of their German friends come round and point and laugh. They are also training the dog to attack strangers, so he is more like a German dog. So far, the training is not going well, mainly because the dog is keep trying to escape. But of course, as I was point out to the Mengeles, this is what always happen when you bestow skills on someone. Teach people to read, and they start questioning your interpretation of the Bible. Teach them to use weapons to defend you, and they can turn those weapons against you. Teach your dog the elementary principles of disguise, and soon he is impersonating the postman and making a break for it. Which was not all so bad, since the post have improved since he take over.
But however now the Mengeles are both frustrate and sad that he is try to escape, because they have already grow to love him and his small poos. So I make tripwiring for all the hedges and fences for them around their property so that Rudolf does not get out (all of the Mengeles’ dogs have always been call Rudolf. I have no idea why. None of them ever have red noses!) But Rudolf is so quick that, as soon as someone open the front gate, he is down the garden path, leap up the small step, and is out onto the esplanade to worry the topless ladies. It is then take all day for Herr Mengele to track him down, usually in a bar or nightclub, sometimes the 24-hour supermarket, where Rudolf has found himself a job on the tills. They will employ anyone there.
So yes, the six-weeks’ quarantine that I mention. Is this. Herr Mengele was have a brilliant idea to stop Rudolf’s running aways. He was see on the Internet or in one of his regular magazines an advertisement for the Bathmate Goliath, which is a very useful machinery for making big the male penis. Geniusly, he send off for it, using his lateral thinking, after reading about its money-back guarantee. If you use it for six weeks and there is no massive improvement, you can sent it back, unused, at no loss.
I think you are probly ahead of me already. For the past six weeks, they have been using the Bathmate Goliath three times a day on Rudolf, with such amazing success that now his male member drag along under him on the floor. Is hilarious to watch. Rudolf is like a dog with two tails! And so now, whenever someone is come through the gate and Rudolf make a sprint for it, whenever he get to the small step and try to jump up it, his monstrous manbit is act like an anchor and catch on the step. Rudolf is give a big yelp and curl into an agony ball on the grass, which give time—usually 20 minutes or so—for Frau Mengele to walk the 18 feet to the end of the garden and shut the gate. It work like a charm.
Well. It have work like a charm for a week. Having learn that he can no longer escape through the gate, Rudolf spent all last Thursday night watching Herr Mengele’s collection of animal porn, then while everyone else was still in bed, he ran the length of the garden and pole-vaulted over the gate, and nobody has seen him since. Herr Mengele has try all the exotic dance bars and strip joints in Corralejo and Puerto del Carmen. He is also think of maybe trying Gran Canaria, where they are much more keen on that sort of thing. He is only interest in bringing Rudolf home and looking after him, you understand. He is not intending to hire Rudolf out.
So, please, if you are see Rudolf anywhere (he may not be answering to the name Rudolf; he may already be using a pseudonym), please let me know as soon as you can, for me that I can inform the Mengeles. They are missing their Rudolf terribly, and is not nice to see a grown man cry.
Also, would anyone like to buy a second-hand Bathmate Goliath. One very careful pervious owner. Contact address as above.