Mrs. Hampsterson’s plea for help

Dear Wise Advice,  my name is Eleanora Hampsterson. I live in the lovely village of Come-By-Chance, Newfoundland.  Things here were quite lovely until last week.  That’s when the lady next door, you know who I’m talking about, eh? the lovely redhaired lass with the nutty dog?  Well she comes round to the door, see. Banging and hollering like a wounded seagull.  So I says to her,  “What’d that old, nutter of a husband do now?  Has he landed his truck in the sea again?”   She shakes her head and comences to flailing her arms, pointing to her front yard.  “Dearie, there’s nothing there”, I tells her.  Only after I be giving her a lovely cuppa tea to calm her, does she explain her worries.  She’s right excited still, but gets out a crazy yarn…something about her dog, (it’s a lovely big beagle) not wanting to step on the grass. Have you ever heard such a thing!!!!???  So I says to Netty, (that’s the poor soul’s name)  “Netty, your talking foolish, dear. Just give that dog a lovely bisquit and send it on it’s way.”   After seven more cups of tea, she was near to convinced that her dog might be willing to step on the grass. Good enough, I think.  Off she goes, don’t you know.  So I commences to putting on a lovely pot of fish chowder, as my dear husband, Alfred, is about to come through the door.  Alfred expects a nice meal on the table, don’t you know.  Just as I’m cutting up the cod for my chowder, a shriek, the likes you’ve never heard, startles me so bad that I drops my cod on the floor.  Miss Lucy (our lovely cat) dives after it like a starving gull and drags it off before I can nab it back!  The shrieking, which is getting louder by the second, is coming from Netty’s house. I gets my gumboots and mac on and goes over, fearing the worse.  I’m half expecting to see poor Netty half dead and all tore to bits! What do I find?  Well I never would have believed…!!!! So you see, dear, you need to be sending one of those crisis teams I been hearing about. Spare no expense; bus, lunch money, for the lot of you.  We’re desperate here in Come-By-Chance.  Be sure to dress warm, eh?  It can blow a bit on the ferry crossing.  And would you be kind enough to bring some of those lovely Peak Frean chocolate bisquits from the Mainland? Mrs. Eleanora Hampsterson 


One response to “Mrs. Hampsterson’s plea for help

  1. Sounds like my little Chihuahua dog Tinky, she doesn’t like to get her paws wet.

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