The Great Dog Wash

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schreibtisch ideale höhe click schreibtisch ideale höhe click ordinateurs asus 17 pouces ordinateurs asus 17 pouces         Lord Toric sat at the table brooding over his meal.  “I am the Lord of the fleas,” he sulked.  “How can I rule a kingdom that’s washed away every year?”

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http://countturns.live/2019/05 anspruchsgrundlagen bgb liste http://countturns.live/2019/05 anspruchsgrundlagen bgb liste         The next year he moved the kingdom onto an Old English sheep dog.  “Ah, this is much better,” he said.  “It’s not as tall as the Great Dane, but there is plenty of room for everyone, and lots of shade, too.” 

        That day the washers had the big dog sit in the water and when they had the dog lie down and roll over as usual, Lord Toric had a wonderful plan.

         “Everyone, hold on,” he bellowed.  Every citizen of the realm wrapped their arms around the many hair-stalks. Not a soul was lost, but they were more than a little wet.

         Lord Toric relaxed. Believing the danger had passed, he surveyed his subjects with a soggy smile.  Then there came a terrible chomping, chopping sound.  One of the washers grabbed a pair of sheep shears and hacked away at the dog’s thick coat.

         That was the year everyone in the kingdom got a hair cut whether they needed it or not.  After the hacking had stopped, another washer brushed away all of the loose hair and Lord Toric and all of his subjects. 

         “No one was very pleased that year,” he mumbled, “especially the women.” Lord Toric rubbed his head where the hair had not quite grown back.  “But this year will be different!” He thumped the table again.

        The next day Lord Toric still had not come up with a new idea for his kingdom.  As the Collie, on which the kingdom now lived, waited in line to be washed, Lord Toric looked around, frantic to find a new home. 

        The washing began.  Splash!  They dunked the Great Dane.  Then the Old English sheep dog.  Then the German Shepherd, followed by an Afghan.  Next it would be the Collie’s turn.

        Lord Toric commanded everyone to pack up all of their belongings and get ready to move.  The Collie entered the water. The kingdom of fleas hopped, skipped, and bounced toward the tail.  Lord Toric’s kingdom leapt onto the nose of the next dog in line.

        They fled from tail to nose until they got to the last dog.  With his kingdom balanced on the jiggly tail of a Jack Russell terrier, Lord Toric searched for a suitable place. Panic rose in the subjects of Lord Toric. 

        “Staying here is not an option,” he thought.  “This dog is much too small and the confounded thing will not be still!” 

        He heard someone shout from the far end of the park.  He looked up and there came the Mayor, running with a tiny dog tucked under one arm and his other hand holding unto his slipping, flapping toupee. 

        When the Mayor set his Pomeranian down, Lord Toric ordered his subjects to leap to the back of the small dog.  As the Mayor stood up his toupee slipped.  He straightened it with a quick hand. 

        In a flash Lord Toric got an idea. He ordered everyone in the kingdom to pinch the small dog. It yipped and scratched.  As the Mayor leaned down to quiet his dog, Lord Toric shouted, “Jump!”

        When the Mayor stood up his toupee stayed in place.  He walked throughout the park smiling and petting all of the dogs, and his toupee never slipped once. 

        Lord Toric smiled and thumped his chest with pride.  He had finally found the perfect home for his kingdom.  After all, no one dunks the Mayor on the day of the Great Dog Wash.