PANSEY'S TAIL
by Jonty Newbery

Pansey woke up and found he was hungry, so he plodded upstairs to his ‘magic’ food bowl and again found that it had filled itself with some yummy food just for him. After lunch, he decided to go outside to see what his friend John the gardener had been doing. As he squeezed through the cat flap, he noticed Brutus sitting under the barbecue.

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“Hello”  said Brutus

“Hello”, said Pansey.

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s what I can do for you?” replied Brutus

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Pansey still wasn’t quite sure of Brutus. It had been two months since he had been forced to remove Brutus from HIS pub.

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“Let’s go over to the gazebo and talk.” said Pansey.

At the gazebo, Brutus said, “OK, If I were to give you some information that would help you, would you let me live at the pub? I would stay out of your way.” he said hopefully.

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Pansey thought about it. He did rather like Brutus, and he felt a little guilty about having to force him out at Christmas time, but it was his pub and he had standards!

After some consideration, he acquiesced and said “Okay. What’s the information?”

 

Brutus came close to Pansey’s ear and whispered, “The rats are up. They’re planning to take over the Duke! Mongol has run out of money and he wants yours.”

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“Oh” said Pansey in surprise. This was not news he’d wanted to hear and, for a moment, he sat silently thinking.

“You’d best take the spare room” said Pansey making his decision. On the one hand, Brutus was delighted to have a new home but, on the other, he knew he was getting old. He had fought in the Owl Wars and he’d not planned on another battle in his retirement years.

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“You know where the food is?” said Pansey. “Make yourself at home.”

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“Thank you” replied Brutus, and it was settled.

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“I must go off to see Rosie now.”  said Pansey and he left Brutus alone, considering his new future.

Rosie was found in the garage, playing with a spider.

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“Sometimes.” thought Pansey, “Rosie can be a little cruel.” 

Rosey and Pansey had had a brief affair, but Pansey had decided that he didn’t want kittens, and he didn’t fancy life with a hot-tempered female, so they called it off and were now just friends.

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“All good?” asked Rosie.

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“Nope, not all good.”  replied Pansey. “The rats are planning to take over the pub.”

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“And exactly how does that concern me?” said Rosie, knowing it would annoy Pansey.

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“I may need your help.” replied Pansey.

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“What’s in it for me?” asked Rosie, trying to look pretty.

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Pansey realised he was getting nowhere here so he wandered off, leaving her with her poor spider, although the spider had seized its chance and had seven-and-a-half-legged it away whilst they were speaking.

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As Pansey reached the big gate, he saw a big French bulldog sitting on the other side, looking stupid.

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“What do you want?” Asked Pansey annoyed.

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“I’m Reggie. We’ve just moved here, and I’m going to be in charge.”

 

Pansey was not in the mood for this so, without another word, he cuffed Reggie in the face.

 

“I’m Pansey! I’m in charge here. My father was General Poncenby and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll damn well toe the line. Reggie was not used to this sort of thing and jumped back in shock. Pansey gave him his hardest stare and Reggie backed off a little more. With a final withering look at Reggie, Pansey walked away with his tail in the air.

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With Brutus’ news, Ginger (Pansey’s pet name for Rosie) being difficult and a dog trying to muscle in, this was turning into a stressful morning. He was now hungry and sleepy again.

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“How did it go with Rosie?” asked Brutus as they passed at the cat flap.

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“Badly.” replied Pansey tersely.

Out of breath, at the top of the stairs, Pansey went into the master bedroom.

“I’m unfit.” he thought to himself, as he shoved his face into the magic food bowl before curling up on the king-sized bed.

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Brutus was approximately sixteen years old. He’d had an interesting life, most of which had been in the army. He generally kept his career quiet. He had been a colour sergeant and, although he had attempted to challenge it, he had recognised the leader in Pansey when he first stepped into the pub that night at Christmas time. He had been on his way to see his friend Frank but, having met Pansey, he’d decided to stay. And the rest, as they say, was history!

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Pansey woke up with a start. He had been having a nasty nightmare. He had dreamt that he’d found Mongol, the head of the rats, sleeping on his king-sized bed in his master bedroom and that he’d been made homeless!

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In his liminal state, he still felt panicked at the question of what he could do. As he woke up fully, that question still rolled around his mind. What could he do about the impending threat? Well, the very first thing to do was to have some crunchies, and then he’d consider his position. He must beat Mongol; the alternative was unthinkable.

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He needed to gather his own army to defend the pub, and he needed to get fit!

Pansey was only three years old, and this was all pretty new to him. Until now, he had thought that it was all magic food bowls, and sleepy days in the pub.

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“Yes.” Pansey thought to himself, “I must get fit.”

So after breakfast, he set off down York Road with a sense of purpose. He was going to walk all the way around the block. That would be a good start.