News Hound Ady & Flo www.sunlive.co.nz

Do you know Jack Sh*t?
I didn't know Jack Sh*t, until the weekend.

Uncle Scotty came around in the weekend with a load of compost for Mrs Boss's vege garden expansion. He brought the Casanova of Katikati – Jack the Stud.

Scotty and Sarah wanted a keen young boy to make puppies with their darling Pipi, so they put an advert in The Weekend Sun: 'Stud wanted”. Jack was the result, and after doing the business with Pipi, Jack ended up moving in, when his owners moved overseas.

Now Jack, of course, is a Jack Russell. He's been doing his best to ensure the survival of the species, by generously spreading his seed amongst the keen young bitches of the district. Now after his second litter with Pipi, he's a venerable virile veteran.

However no-one told Jack when he arrived at my place on Sunday, to take care when running around the compost heap. Because there's always a dog sh*t hole in close proximity. The boss spends a fair percentage of his life wandering the lawn and the reserve picking up dog product, not just mine, but also the deposits of some of the other canines of the neighbourhood, whose owners either don't notice or don't care that their animals are leaving landmines. And it's not just dogs. There's the odd horse product that also gets left on the local reserve.

So the boss has always said that one day, someone will fall in the sh*t hole. He was quietly hoping it would be a prowler, but of course would probably end up being sued by the perpetrator, who would then go onto ACC and bleed the country dry.

However the honour of being the first to fall for the sh*t hole went, in fact, to Jack.

Being a Russell, there's not a lot of leg length for the purpose of getting out of the sh*t. Little Jack was doing his best to spring out of the hole, but with crap up to his rear quarters and only four inches of ground clearance, he wasn't making much headway out of the dire mire. We just saw a little ginger head, looking quite distraught, bobbing up and down in the middle of the compost patch. Eventually someone stopped laughing long enough to help the little guy out.

We decided Jack the Stud would be renamed Jack Sh*t, at least until he got to the hose for a thorough washdown.

It was quite some time before Uncle Scotty allowed Jack back into the truck. I wonder why.

As the old slogan goes:
'Don't wait to be told… ”

And for those who may not have heard it, here's the real story of Jack's ancestory:

The lineage is finally revealed. Many people are at a loss for a response when someone says 'You don't know Jack Schitt.” Now you can intellectually handle the situation. Jack is the son of Awe Schitt and O. Schitt. Awe Schitt, the fertiliser magnate, married O. Schitt, the owner of Needeep N. Schitt Inc. They had one son, Jack. In turn Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt, the deeply religious couple produced six children: Holie Schitt, Fuller Schitt, Giva Schitt, Bull Schitt, and the twins: Deap Schitt and Dipp Schitt. Against her parents' objections, Deap Schitt married Dum Schitt, a high school drop-out.

However, after being married 15 years, Jack and Noe Schitt divorced. Noe Schitt later remarried Ted Sherlock and, because her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name.

She was then known as Noe Schitt-Sherlock. Meanwhile, Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt and they produced a son of nervous disposition, Chicken Schitt. Two other of the six children, Fuller Schitt and Giva Schitt, were inseparable throughout childhood and subsequently married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony.

The wedding announcement in the newspaper announced the Schitt-Happens wedding. The Schitt-Happens children were Dawg, Byrd, and Horse. Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world. He recently returned from Italy with his new Italian bride, Pisa Schitt.
So now when someone says, 'you don't know Jack Schitt” you can correct them.

Catch you next week.

- Flo.