A well-heeled gentleman walks into a pet store in London looking to buy a dog. “Something unique,” he tells the shop owner.
“Come this way,” says the shopkeeper, and leads the man to the back of the store and to a small, mangy-looking dog in a cage.
“What’s this?” The man asks.
“That, my dear sir, is a Rarie. Only a handful are known to exist.”
“I said I was looking for something unique, not a street mutt.”
“Ah,” says the shopkeeper, “but the Rarie has a special talent. He’s a talking dog.”
“A talking dog?” the man asks dubiously. “Have him say something then.”
“Oh, he can’t talk yet; he’s just a pup. But take him home, care for him well, and by the time he’s an adult he’ll start talking.”
“Interesting,” says the man. “How much?”
“Five thousand pounds.”
So the man pays the shopkeeper and takes the dog home.
As per the shop owner’s instructions, he brushes the dog daily, feeds him a rich diet, and allows him to sleep in his bed.
After one year the dog has grown to an impressive size, but has not uttered a word.
So the man waits another year. “Come on boy,” the man encourages. “Say something.”
But the dog just lets out a huff and walks away. This goes on year after year.
After five years the man is exasperated. He calls the shop and demands his money back. The shopkeeper informs him there are no refunds.
The man slams down the phone, eyes the sleeping dog, and says, “Well then I’ll be rid of you once and for all.”
He drives the dog to the mountains, parks atop the highest peak, and drags him by the collar to the edge of a cliff. He’s about to hurl the dog over the side when he hears a voice.
“‘Allo,” says the dog. “What’s all this then?”
“I’ve had you for five years and you haven’t said a word,” says the man in a deranged voice. “So I’m going to tip you over the edge of this cliff.”
“You’re going to do what?” asks the dog. “Tip me over this cliff?!?”
“That’s right,” says the man.
The dog looks down over the precipice. “My, that’s a long way to tip a Rarie.”
