I wish to register a complaint. This hound you sold me is not as you promised.

Oh, yes, the Mercian Sabre Toothed hound. What’s, uh, what’s wrong with it?

Very nearly everything.

Oh, no, couldn’t be. Crikey, just look at those markings! Isn’t he a beauty?

The markings don’t enter into it. It’s completely unsuitable for adventuring in dungeons.

NO! NO no no no no! The Mercian Sabre Tooth is the perfect companion animal for a tour of monster-crammed subterranean environments.

You said he’d been leash-trained!

Yes. Very well domesticated, the Mercian Sabre. Raised in captivity since Julius Caesar was a frat-boy.

Well, the only leash command he’ll accept is when you wrap it around his throat tightly and say ‘Go to sleep!’

Uh…………….. Oh, you said TRAINED! I thought I made it clear, he’s leash RESTRAINED! Yeah, stout Scottish leather, just like The Bishop uses.

Hmmmm. Well, you assured me that he would help me fight monsters in the adventures.

Yesssss?

The first thing he did when we entered the dungeon was to dig in his claws and refuse to go past the door.

Ah, that’s his Danger Sense. Very sensitive, the Sabre Toothed. He knew that the dungeon was Dangerous.

OF COURSE it was dangerous! That’s the bloody point of adventuring. If it weren’t dangerous, then any damn serf could waltz in and grab the treasure.

Watlzing hasn’t been invented yet, squire.

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!

I take your meaning, yes, I do, sir.

The only reason it entered the dungeon at all was that it saw something to attack inside.

Ah, very keen, these hounds, very keen to fight all villainy.

What it attacked was ME you blithering idiot.

I suspect you were having unkind thoughts about the hound, for not wanting to enter the caves? It’s that Danger Sense kicked in, it knew you had it in for him and he wanted you to see how useful he’d be in a fight.

Right. Now, you said that this beast was trained to fight up to three monsters at once, all to the death, in the dark, from a standing start, like, and I quote the brochure, here, "striped death shot from an angry catapult."

Yesssss?

Well, I couldn’t help noticing that after it attacked me, I wasn’t dead.

It restrained itself, squire, out of love for its master. Very loyal animal, the Mercian Hound.

It was then that I examined the ‘sabre teeth’ of the Hound, and discovered that the reason it had such long fangs was because they’d been nailed there.

A………..Well, o’course they was nailed there. Those are his fourth set of fangs. Vicious beast like that, goes thru at least a fang a month with his vicious assaults!

It ain’t a vicious beast! It ain’t got sabre teeth! It’s not a hound! It’s a pussy cat that’s afraid of the dark! And paranoid!

Are…………are you saying that’s not what you wanted?

NO!

Well, uh, maybe you could breed ‘im and raise your own….

YOU GELDED ‘IM YOU BLEEDIN’ HACK!

Well, I’d better replace it then….

Sorry, m’lud, I’ve had a look ‘round the shop, and, uh, we’re right out of sabre toothed hounds.

I see. I see. I get the picture!

I've got a slug.

Pray, does it attack with abandon?

Yeeeeeeeeee - not really.

Not much of a replacement, then, is it?

No….. Say! I know!

Later:

Where the hell did you get that?

Bolton.

Bolton?

It’s an in-joke.

What’s his…their…its…what do you call, um, it…them… Is there a name?

Fluffy.

Fluffy?

Short for ‘Ignatius.’

That’s a dangerous beast!

No, he’ll follow me thru the dungeon. I’m going to teach him tricks, and to attack and to stand guard and sniff out monsters….

He’ll attack us in our sleep!

Make friends. Hold out your hand so he can sniff it!

Grrrrrrrrr.

Well you FLINCHED! Of course he’s gonna be nervous if you FLINCH!