Dead dogs and dentists

Here’s a Sefardic tale, originally from Meam Loez, and included in Pascual Pascual Recuero’s Antología de cuentos sefardíes:

I think that’s a perfectly good ending, but there is a moral and it must be explained. So:

That spoils it for me.

[
Once upon a time two squatters lived in a tower block in London with an Alsatian, which they loved very much in their own peculiar fashion. One morning they woke up, except for the dog, which didn't. However, that day they were too busy doing squatter stuff to do anything about it, so they left it in the bath which, by the following morning, smelt terrible.

What are we going to do, they said to each other over a fumigative spliff. I know, let's stuff it down the rubbish shaft. Damn, too big, they said, as the neighbour walked past. Let's put it in a binliner, take it down to the Thames and give it a Viking funeral.

Oi, said the bus conductor, watchu got in that bag? Smells fucking terrible. Off my bus!

So they dropped it in the Regent's Park Canal. Go West! they sang as it drifted off towards Paddington, its teeth glinting in the morning sun.
]

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