Warwick The Dish-LickerWarwick was a 12 year-old greyhound that had retired from racing. His days chasing the hare around Harold Park with the other dish-lickers were well behind him. He had a few good wins under his belt, but the highlight of his career was when he was sent out to breed and managed to sow his wild oats all over the state for a very pretty penny.
Now his days were spent as a happy retired dog living beachside with his owners, Chris and Michelle. Times were good. A swim and run at the beach, a sniff around the local dogs and a nice piece of rump steak every night.
It was a sunny Tuesday morning when Rob the window cleaner arrived to give the beachside home a good going over. The house had huge windows in all rooms to capture the ocean views. Unfortunately the salt spray from the nearby ocean meant Rob would really have to earn his wage, but he reckoned if he did a good job it could become a regular gig.
Chris welcomed Rob and pointed out what needed to be done, and also introduced him to Warwick. Rob loved dogs but had never crossed paths with a greyhound before. Little did he know how intelligent these racing mutts actually were.
“Hey Rob, I have to go out for a few hours if that’s okay?” Chris told Rob. “Warwick won’t give you any bother. Just give him the move on if he gets in your way.”
Rob loved his job. He was semi-retired and treated the window cleaning as a relaxing meditation. He took his time making sure each window was picture-perfect. When Rob made his way into the lounge room, Warwick followed, but he soon became bored and slipped out to the yard before leaping into the pool. Rob laughed as the dog did three laps and climbed out to shake off the excess water.
Next on the agenda for Warwick was a roll in the freshly mulched garden before proceeding back to the lounge room. Before Rob could intervene, the dirty dog jumped up on the plush leather lounge and fell asleep.
After an hour of solid snoring, Warwick woke from his snooze and headed to the kitchen. Rob watched in amazement as he returned with half a cooked chicken in his jaws. He lay down on the polished timber floor and devoured his midday snack.
Rob began to feel a bit uneasy at all of these goings on. Was he supposed to pull the dog back into line? The owner had said to leave him to his own devices, but this was getting a bit out of hand.
When the dog was nowhere to be seen, Rob became concerned. Eventually he found Warwick asleep again, this time sprawled out on the king size bed in the master bedroom. When Rob cleaned the window in this room, the dog just snored and ripped out the occasional fart. Rob reckoned he could even see a smile on the dog’s face.
Rob’s conscience could take no more. Luckily the owner returned.
“You’re doing a great job there, Rob. Looks fantastic mate. I hope that dog hasn’t been giving you any grief,” he said.
“Well, not one to kiss and tell, but that dog has been having the time of his life,” Rob hesitantly reported.
He pointed to the dog on the bed still asleep, as well as the trail of destruction through the rest of the palatial dwelling. Rob felt bad dobbing in Warwick but didn’t want the owner to think that he had encouraged the bad behaviour.
“Don’t worry about it Rob,” Chris started to explain. “I was given Warwick from a friend for payment for a bet. I didn’t know the first thing about training a greyhound. Luckily a mate tipped me into master trainer Stewart Ashton and the rest is history.”
Rob was still confused.
“Well, with a stroke of good luck, Warwick won a string of races and was then sought after for breeding. In total, that lazy mutt has earned over seven hundred thousand dollars!”
Rob was astounded.
“We bought this house and all the trimmings a few years ago,” Chris added. “As far as my wife and I are concerned, this house is Warwick’s, so it is fair to say that smelly dish-licker can do whatever the hell he pleases in this place!”