Texan

He stood on the hill, the man, the raj, listening, listening for the familiar tinkle o’ ri dug’s collar.
Where hud the damn fucking thing goat tae now?
Last he’d seen it it had sped off man in pursuit, galloping, galloping in pursuit o’ ri wee bunny rabbits man.
An auld wifey appeared at the summit, hobbling along, placid, clutching a wee white stick. Her own dug appeared beside her, pantin’, grinnin’, lollin’ its tongue. Inane beast.
‘Ye’ve no seen another black lab huv ye?’ the raj queried.
‘No, son, no, have ye lost one aye?’ she asked sympathetically.
‘He’s round about here somewhere... away efter ri rabbits...’
‘She’s the same,’ the wifey said, indicating her own mutt. ‘I just leave her to it, wait, and she comes when she’s ready.’
‘Aye that’s what I usually dae anaw nae doubt he’ll show up in a minute.’ He grinned ruefully and so did the wifey. She bid him farewell and ambled onwards, summoning her own mutt.
Where was the damn fucking thing but? Fucks sake man.
‘Texan! Texan! Here boy!’ the raj yelled then attempted an ineffectual whistle. Fuckin’ dug.
It wisnae that but it was close to the road, the hill was close to the road and that damn stupit animal was likely to run out and get tallied by a car man the stupit wee bastart.
There was a rustlin’ sound fae amongst the bushes and then a wee bunny rabbit appeared whoosh, sprintin’, fast as fuck, whoosh man ohya cunt ye there he goes and here came ri dug.
‘Mere you ya daft cunt ye!’ He managed to intercept the thing and it halted and allowed itself to be leashed, its tongue lollin’, its eyes gleaming, panting away, panting away. Inane beast.
He led it down the hill, or it led him rather, chugging at the lead, choking itself, sending the raj skitin’ on the dew damp gress.
‘Fuck sake easy boy, easy son, take it easy.’
At the foot of the hill was a busy road and the raj led the dug to the pedestrian crossing. The dug halted obediently beside him whilst he pressed the button, it leaned against his leg as they waited. A big lorry sped past and the dug jumped back slightly as if it goat a wee fright and the raj chuckled.
‘Alright son, yer alright,’ he murmured soothingly, petting ri dug’s heid. The cars slowed down as the traffic lights shifted to red. But ri green man hudnae appeared yet. He ay felt guy self-conscious at this bit for some reason, guy self-conscious. The motorists watchin’ him, scrutinisin’ him, wondering who had interrupted their transit, it was he, yer hometown son, ri self-styled raj just oot exercisin’ the dug nae bother man.
Here wis the green man noo wi’ ri beep beep beep the encouragin’ glimmer o’ ri green man he walked across still self-conscious man, still self-conscious as fuck, the dug traversin’ in front of him near enough trippin’ him up fuck sake man he was still self-conscious.
It was all go, get the fuckin’ beast across, the motorists glarin’ at him, c’mon son on ye go nearly there here go up ri kerb, made it.
The traffic resumed its transit and the raj and the dug walked along the pavement, ri dug still chuggin’ away and making those damn gaggin’ chokin’ noises.
‘Mon son, easy, heel boy, heel. Heel, ya zealous cunt.’ Ri dug wisnae fur listenin’, it persisted wi’ its annoyin’ fuckin’ habit.
They passed some teenagers, the dug strainin’ at its lead tae go and sniff at them.
‘Alright lads,’ the raj greeted them.
‘Alright big yin.’
He managed to pull ri dug away and onward they walked until the dug stopped again and hunkered doon to expel a big fat shite fae its arse fuck sake man fucking mortified. The raj looked around furtively tae check nae cunt hud seen it. The deed done, the raj tugged the dug onwards.
Except a couple ay cunts hud seen it, standin’ up the way a bit, two cunts wi’ blue plastic carry-oot bags, two jakey cunts sippin’ wine and mutterin’ tae each other.
‘Here, I hope yer gonnae pick that up.’ It was wan of the jakeys. He wis grinnin’ but it wis a malevolent grin, it wis a grin that oor man ri self-styled raj hometown son didnae much care for no sir he didnae like it wan bit, it wis an ominous grin is what it wis.
‘He didnae shite on the pavement,’ the raj protested, continuing to walk no too hurriedly just walkin’ on no bothered his arse no worried like.
‘Am no carin’, ma kids play up and doon here,’ the jakey replied. Kids, fuckin’ kids ya jakey cunt ye yer no fit tae be a faither standin’ tipplin’ on the street ya jakey cunt. The raj kept walkin.
‘Where do ye live I’ll come and pit it on yer doorstep,’ the jakey continued. His pal looked worried. His pal was a sound cunt the raj decided, but he was a dickhead man a fuckin’ wanker.
Still, he wisnae wantin’ any bother so he just walked on, lettin’ oot an indignant cackle in response. He walked on, rounded a bend, roond the corner intae ri housin’ scheme, the dug still chuggin’ away. A wee glance ower ri shoulder tae confirm nae sight ay the jakey cunts thank fuck no that he wis bothered his arse like he’d fuckin’ gie them a doin’ if they fuckin’ startit anything the jakey bastarts. Fuckin’ rap them aboot ri heid wi’ ri dug’s leash man, heh, he guffawed to himself.
Close enough to ri’ hoose now he crouched down and as he unleashed ri dug he telt it ‘Go see yer ma, go and see ma,’ and the dug scrambled onwards, straight towards ri hoose tae go and see the missis the dug would go straight tae the hoose where it wis guaranteed a treat.