A Very French K9

The Owner and I were sitting lazily in the sunshine in the front porch. I was watching, intently, the hover fly that seemed to be treating my nose in much the same way as perhaps a helicopter would the landing pad on a big ship. I know you’re impressed with my knowledge with such matters but when you sit and watch Quest of an evening with The Owner, there isn't much about a Mighty Ship I don’t know. As for The Owner, well it is always difficult to work out what he is thinking about on such occasions so we just label him as having a lazy vacant moment and leave it at that. There was a big roar from an engine and a cloud of dust as a black car which looked vaguely familiar slid sideways into the lay-by in front of the cottage. I was still debating with myself an appropriate course of action when a door burst open on the car and at great volume, out leapt my mate Vic R. He does most things, I notice, at great volume. As he lumbered up the path past the lavender (yuk and double phew!!) he bellowed with great enthusiasm “Helllllooooooo to yoooooou!”. I was already getting a headache and I suspect that The Owner would soon be developing one too. “Hello” he mumbled in response as he staggered to his feet. “I had better go and put the coffee on then.” Nooooooooooooooo!” replied Vic R, losing none of his exuberance, “I am going to take you to the pub for a beer and a sandwich” The Owner of course immediately lost his tardiness and became very excited at the thought of going to the pub when someone else had offered to pay and we were both soon in Vic R’s car and heading up through the village. When we got to the pub there was clearly some form of K9 interest in the gardens as I could see several lady K9’s flocking around something. We went in to the bar, me on my posh lead obviously, as The Owner and Vic R ordered their drinks and sandwiches. Drinks collected and much cheeriness all round, we wandered out in to the pub gardens to await the food. Have you noticed how I don’t get a sandwich?? Well in the gardens we were also confronted with the object of female K9 interest which demonstrated their fickleness completely. Vic R said to The Owner “What kind of dog is that then?”. The Owner announced with an air of authority that it was apparently a French Mastiff and then said, “He must smell a lot of garlic then”. I have no idea what he meant by that but it must be one of The Owners special jokes as no one else was laughing! I had suspected that it was just The Owner trying to impress, to cover up his lack of knowledge on anything in particular as is normal, until HE spoke! HE was addressing a particularly cute looking young yellow lab which I thought would have gone for my obvious breeding. “ Ma Cherie, you want that I whisper of lurve gently in your ear?”. She immediately went all silly and played up to him, to the embarrassment of her owners, and seemed oblivious to the real star of the show. I even tried to speak to her in a voice which made it obvious that I had breeding. I mentioned Lord Bath a lot, but she was just smitten with this Gallic fool! I went and sat obediently under The Owners chair and glared at HIM a lot and chose to do little else about it. Why??? Have you seen a French Mastiff???? He is twice the size of me!! More like Monkey Dog Thing on steroids really, and I would really like to live to see the next day!