Jack Russell revenge
I was house-sitting for an acquaintance who happened to have both a cat and a Jack Russell called Jacky. I hate dogs, and this one was the worst of its kind: yappy, irritating and with an aggressive streak. It would snarl at my heels whenever I was around and yap incessantly if in the same room.

The dog would chase the cat round the house pretty much all day, yap yap yapping endlessly. This pissed me off no end as I tried to enjoy Rambo III one evening on DVD, and I wished the dog dead on numerous occasions. But something better happened.

All internal doors had a catflap. On this occasion, the cat came rocketing through the flap to escape its tomentor and the chasing dog's head became wedged in the gap, causing a frenzy of high-pitched barking. I swear I heard the cat laughing.

So I got up and approached the door. Cue the dog going into yap overdrive and snarling at my legs. I opened the door and the dog moved with it, still barking. Then I closed the door and stood behind the dog, whose stumpy little legs were twitching insanely. I couldn't resist. I kicked its arse.

This resulted in an ecstasy of yapping and a frenzied tapdancing of canine legs. I found it so funny that I gave the arse another belt and grinned at the yaps became one uninterrupted yowl. It was quite securely trapped in the flap. There was some fun to be had.

In an upstairs room, I found a can of compresed air - the kind with a long plastic tube attached to clean camera lenses, keyboards and the like. So I went down and stood again behind the dog, which had not stopped barking the whole time. I positioned the end of the tube mere milimetres from the animals clenching knot and let loose a stream of chilled, compressed air.

And, do you know, the result was quite striking. Those stumpy little legs thrashed and jumped so fast that I fancied it a hummingbird. The howl was one of apocalyptic surprise - and not in a good way either. No - it was a crescendo of frustration... the kind of noise you'd want Scrappy Doo to make as you put him through a mangle. And then I gave the dog another kick, just for a garnish.

I don't know how many minutes we spent like that. But by the end of it, little Jacky was sobbing doggy tears and it's little arse was quite red raw. I didn't stop until the little fucker went silent. Then I sat down to enjoy the rest of Rambo III in peace.

I left the dog stuck in the door all night and the owner found him the next day, quite silent and forlorn. I denied all knowledge of the accident, but I think we'd reached an understanding, Jacky and I.
(frankspencer, Mon 3 Sep 2007, 14:20, Reply)