In which Mr Rustypants visited Conference

Me: Hey – where have you been all day Mr Rustypants? I’ve not seen sight nor sound of you!

Mr Rustypants: Oh hi Dad, no, I’ve been around, just chillin’, you know.

Me: You haven’t been here all day! I know because a) it’s been quiet, b) the house is still neat and c) I haven’t needed a gas mask once today.

Mr Rp: Oh, you’re a harsh man. Accurate, but harsh. Anyway, I was out. At the conference.

Me: Conference? What conference?

Mr Rp: The Dog Conference. We have one every year, like people. You have your conferences, we have ours.

Me: I think we’re entering the realms of the unwell here, but never mind, I’ll bite. What do you dogs do at your Conference?

Mr Rp: Well, same as most conferences really, a lot of hot air – which does chuck up a bit sometimes; personally I blame the canned meat, but we have speeches, networking, Master classes, that sort of thing. In fact I gave a Master class myself this year.

Me: The mind boggles. In what?

Mr Rp: Advanced Shagging, I would have thought that was obvious.

Me: Advanced.. shagging? What does that entail then?

Mr Rp: You really want to know?

Me: No, fair point well made, we’ll gloss over that. What else?

Mr Rp: Well, there was the keynote woof to start with. A Great Dane gave it this year; ‘Sofas – for human beings as well?’ which was rather controversial, but interesting. Then we had the morning break – networking and bum sniffing. As usual, we got a bit involved, but the sheep dogs soon rounded us up and herded us back into the next session. I was particularly looking forward to that; it got really heated!

Me: Do I even dare ask?

Mr Rp: It was called ‘Settling down at night – clockwise or counter clockwise turns before bed?’

Me: And that got heated?

Mr Rp: You have no idea! The bulldogs were all in favour of tradition, but the German Shepherds were all for trying a new approach. It ended up in a right old set to, and the Rottweilers had to break it up before it got nasty. It didn’t help that the Jack Russells decided to get in on the act and try and balance on the backs of the fighters – a bit like horse rodeos, you know?

Me: No, but I’m getting a good idea. I suppose that you’re going to tell me that the Red Setters then piled in?

Mr Rp: Are you kidding? Everyone knows that they’re as mad as ten and a half fleas in a crisp packet; they spent the entire fight chasing their own tails. Morons.

Me: What happened next? I’m intrigued.

Mr Rp: Well, then we had lunch. It was a really great buffet this year – raw meat, kibble, bones, anything you could want – and a special buffet for those with particular dietary needs.

Me: What – diabetics or something?

Mr Rp: No, not quite. Let’s just say that cat litter trays were involved and leave it at that, shall we?

Me: Yes, I think we should. What happened in the afternoon session?

Mr Rp: Oh, that was very enlightening – 5 steps to ridding the world of the scourge of the feline devils.

Me: Oh? And those steps were what, exactly?

Mr Rp: Step One. Eat breakfast. Step Two. Get some shagging in. Step Three. Chase some tennis balls. Step Four. Afternoon Nap. Step Five. Round up all the cats and dump them on an island in the Pacific. Preferably with a volcano on it. Preferably an active one. Job’s a good’un.

Me: So apart from your Master class, did you have any other involvement?

Mr Rp: Ah, I was hoping you wouldn’t ask me that question. I had an afternoon fringe meeting slot. Called ‘How to ensure your owner thinks they are in charge while keeping the upper hand yourself’.

Me: Charming. I’m guessing that was purely theoretical then?

Mr Rp: Oh absolutely Dad, no question about it – I have no practical knowledge in that subject area at all, obviously.

Me: Good, glad to hear it. So what about other breeds – what was their role?

Mr Rp: The poodles brought around trays of kibble for dogs that needed a quick snack between meals. The Chihuahas were busy making afternoon snacks....

Me: Which were?

Mr Rp: You really ask the wrong questions don’t you? But since you ask, poo on pigs ears. Very tasty treats I’ll have you know. Don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault – some dogs are built that way. Not me I might add – I may say rude words now and then, but I’m not a potty mouth. Hah! Do you see what I did there? I crack me up. You’re lucky to have a dog like me.

Me: I’m completely ignoring that. Any other dogs?

Mr Rp: Well, we got a couple of Dalmatians to stand there so we could play ‘spot the difference’ with all the proceeds going to the Dogs Trust. There were a few French bulldogs and spaniels there, but no-one could make out a single work they were yapping, so we just ignored them.

Me: Really, is this nightmare never going to end?

Mr Rp: Well, we wrapped up with the last session of the Conference; “The mystical importance of the tennis ball.”  Almost brought me to tears that one did, I can tell you. Then we finished off Conference with the usual anthem and...

Me: Hang on; you have an anthem?

Mr Rp: Of course we have an anthem. We all leave conference barking ‘Who let the dogs out’ – pretty obvious really.

Me: Yes... obviously.

Mr Rp: Anyway, I’m back home now, any chance of some tea, I’m famished. Oh, and then we can take a walk up the woods afterwards, but only if you’re up to it of course.

Me: Oh, okay. We can do that. Umm, what was the title of your talk again?

Mr Rp: Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s not important......