A Day In The Life of Bagsby Jones: Bull Dog P.I.

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Bagsby Jones, Bull Dog Private Investigator, was on the case!

He wrinkled his brow, sniffed the air, and vigorously kicked his hind legs.  He rarely took the time to relieve himself while on the job, but, this particular deposit had been necessary.  Call it an emergency that couldn’t wait, or, an accident waiting to happen; either would be true.  Feeling his tummy rumble, he grimaced, and vowed to pass by the next road kill.  Bagsby surmised it must have lain in the sun for too long.  He vowed the next time he came by such a find, he’d take it home to the cat.  He snickered at the thought.

Bagsby scanned the busy street, and was relieved to find that his target had yet to round the corner of Big Bills Butcher Shop.  He was so thankful the poop stop had not hindered the mission at hand, that he sent up a silent “thank you” to Pooch Heaven.

All four of Bagsby’s short, but muscular legs, carried his stocky, body towards the perfect hideout.  He had spent weeks watching and calculating the moves of the big guy, and Bagsby was confident this was the perfect place for the ambush.

Stifling a bark of laughter, Bagsby began back into a small space between two large trash cans.  This maneuver proved difficult, as the space was quite small.  He grunted a cuss word, or two, and wiggled his booty back and forth, until he finally squeezed into the tiny opening.  Had it only been yesterday that he had been able to back in with ease?  Bagsby was baffled, until he remembered the road kill, and realized the tainted stuff must have given him given him gas.  A repetitious rumble, sneaked out his back door, giving credence to his assumption.  The confined space captured the ripe fragrance, and wafted it to his nose.  Bagsby curled his upper lip, scowled, and cursed the road kill, but then he thought about the cat, and smiled.

His mischievous day dream, of poisoning the cat, dissipated at the sound of a distant whistle.   Harmonious whistling had always preceded the big guy’s approach.  Bagsby, reigned in his thoughts to the task at hand.  He knew his target was close, so he tensed his body, and readied himself for the ambush.  Sure enough, the whistling grew louder as the target rounded the butcher shop.  After a moment he could hear the big guy’s footsteps, so he hunkered closer to the ground, in preparation for the attack.  Bagsby could barely contain his excitement.

“Wait for it…wait for it…not yet,” he chided….wait for it…wait… ”

Then it happened!  Shoe leather, and blue fabric entered his field of vision.  Without hesitation, Bagsby lunged his bull-dog frame forward, but his bloated body wedged to a halt.  The noise startled the big guy dressed in blue, and when he caught sight of Bagsby ricocheting between the two trash cans, he screamed, and ran down the busy sidewalk, dodging the passerby’s.

Bagsby feared his target would escape, but adrenalin and another slippage of gas propelled him forward, toppling over both trash cans.  He hit the ground running, booking it in the direction of the fleeing man.  When he was within striking distance he jumped with teeth bared and jowls flapping in the wind.

Bagsby came down on all fours, with a mouth full of leather.  Proud of his conquest, he vigorously shook the leather bag, spraying a cascade of stamped envelopes to the wind.  Bagsby dropped the satchel, sat on his haunches, and smiled.  He enjoyed watching the array of colors fall all around him.

After they had settled, Bagsby knew it was time for his finishing touch.  He waddled over to the leather bag, and for the first time, he noticed it had the big guy’s name stitched on the front.  Bagsby saddled up close, lifted his hind leg, and christened Mr. Newman’s mail bag.

Afterwards, he kicked his hind legs, and happily headed towards home, after all, he had a cat to feed.

 

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