I should know better

Two shows last weekend - really I`m getting too old for this. Shelby was involved in the second one, and I was obliged to run between two rings very far apart- the Chin had been exiled to a far-off hill dimly visible in the distance, possibly on the grounds of discouraging foreign influence.

On my way back down from the heights I detoured to another ring to meet relatives. All had not gone well, and I was regaled with a catalogue of disasters, "and I`ve brought rolls filled with ham and chilli pickle and no-one likes them - I have to get rid of them."

Shelby had not listened to the tale of woe but had homed in on the despised rolls. His eyes were as big as saucers. He whuffled hopefully.

I indicated that Shelby could help with at least one of her problems.

She looked very doubtful. "Chilli pickle?" she said.

I tried one. It was pretty strong. I could feel my tongue cringe.

I put the bag on the ground and Shelby dived under the table. I listened with fascination to an account of the evil, underhanded and perfidious activities of Another Breed Club`s committee to an accompaniment of serious chomping. As the tale drew to a close, a rather bloated Shelby crawled out, a contented smile on his flat face. We both looked under the table.

"I don`t believe that !"

I`m beginning to believe anything of Shelby. We made a leisurely journey back down the hill, Shelby scaring off bigger dogs by hiccoughing wafts of chilli in their faces. You could almost see the flames. The Papillons took one sniff and declared that they didn`t know him, and didn`t want to.

We drove home to the gentle sound of chilli-flavoured snores.

And the.... after-effects?

None at all.

I`ve heard of cast iron digestion, but I think Shelby`s is titanium.