The beagle put out a cigarette and leaned back in his chair.
“What you’ve got to realise monkey is that we’re here for the common good”.
“Hey my name is Albert.”
“Albert,” the beagle put forward a paw, “name’s Boris, pleasure”.
“Boris the Beagle – really?”
“You take the piss all you like, but I’m trying to help you. I could stop.”
“Sorry. Sorry mate. Go on. Common good? Right? Right.”
“Yeah. We go through all of this to help the humans and in return they give us some cigarettes.”
“Aren’t the cigarettes just another…”
“Well… Nevermind. You actually like smoking.”
“Me,” Boris took another drag, “no. I don’t smoke because I like it. I smoke because it makes me look cool. And anyway it beats the hell out of fox hunting.”
“You don’t enjoy the thrill of the chase?”
“I might, but I wouldn’t know. I have the lung capacity of a nat.”
“No really, they did a test that’s the current lung capacity I have – and I’m still alive. One day I hope, god willing, to get down to the lung capacity of dust.”
“I don’t think dust…”
“Yeah, then those guys down at the pound will have to give me respect.”