I was getting dressed this morning when I heard a strange mournful cry coming from outside the front of the house. I took a look and was more than a little shocked to see my pensioner neighbour holding a Jack Russell above her head while a very very large and obviously male dog (a similar colour to a lion and not a lot smaller) mounted her, somewhat enthusiastically.
'He's after my Jill!' she was crying (I don't think that was all he was after love) as she held the Jack Russell aloft. But for all the cries of 'get off! get off!' the big dog kept on coming (by that I mean, jumping up....).
I felt I should help somehow but all the upstairs windows have child locks on and I wasn't wearing any trousers - so I just banged on the window and mouthed my support (marvellous in a crisis I am).
A man crossed the road and managed to move the neighbour to safety and the dog took off up and down the road, ripping at people's rubbish bags and stopping for a poo outside the pub.
People were starting to gather, everyone was looking at each other accusingly as if it to say 'if that's your dog then your in big trouble'. But it was no-one's dog. Someone called the RSPCA. Someone claimed the dog was Turkish (I have no idea on what evidence this was based - maybe they'd seen it stop off at the kebab shop for a lamb kofta and portion of stuffed vine leaves). Someone else said they knew which dog it was - the one that howls all night - and they were glad 'something was being done about it at last' (erm, as far as I could see nothing was being 'done' other than the dog was running up and down the road frightening old ladies and spraying piss around the place. How does that help with the howling?). Someone else kept saying 'ohhh but he's a lovely dog, really lovely!' (presumably she hasnt' been pinned underneath him with his hot breath on her neck?). An old man in wellies and a waxed jacket kept shaking his head and muttering about 'people today' (I guess prior to the 1960's they didnt' have stray dogs?).
Some bright spark appeared with a packet of bacon (I think a large rope and stick might have been more useful) and tried to tempt the dog across the road - only for the dog to nearly take his arm off and make off with the bacon. What then ensued was like something from a Benny Hill sketch with neighbours, commuters and a group of Highway Agency workmen chasing the dog up and down the street with very little progress being made, other than the dog occasionally stopping to piss on people's bin bags. Everybody seemed keen to chase it but nobody appeared to want to actually catch it.
I was about to go back to getting dressed when I heard a blood curdling scream and realised that another neighbour (the one who is scared of just about everything - especially dogs) had just walked round the corner, only for the dog to rear up in front of her like an effigy from her very worst nightmares, mount her from behind and enthusiastically start humping away. The image of her (trying) to run down the pavement with a lion-size dog on her back and a group of workmen in High-Vis jackets jabbing away with sections of the road block, was certainly diverting. I won't be forgetting it for a long time.
Eventually somebody did appear with a rope (bravo!) and the dog was lead away behind Dave's Shop. Where it is now I have no idea - Dave's probably got it wearing a baseball cap and guarding the pick and mix. Actually I should imagine the dog is called Dave. I shall listen out for the howling and let you know.