Event Report - courtesy Lippy NF211a
New Forest HOG has gone to the Dogs
Twenty six members of New Forest HOG huddled together on the steps of Poole Stadium like Emperor penguins seeking protection against a ferocious Antarctic winter to participate in the first ‘Hoggin the Dogs’ – greyhounds that is, with exotic names like ‘Kaloo the third’ and not so exotic names like ‘Squeaky Boy ‘ and ‘Firpits Freddy’. At 6.30pm prompt the doors opened and first through the doors we claimed our race cards and vouchers and made a beeline for the bar (me) and tables and chairs (everyone else ) in the viewing area adjacent to the finishing line.
The free drinks and generous basket meals that came with our entry tickets were quickly consumed by everyone. Before we got down to the serious business of studying the form of the muts upon whom we were about to wager our hard earned cash. For the cautious punter the price of admission included a free accumulator bet on the winners of races 4 through 9. Unfortunately ‘Cronody Miracle’ – our choice for Race 4 failed to live up to his name by coming second but we still made the princely sum of £1.57 with a side bet to ‘Place’.
Having observed from the outset that all the dogs were escorted for a wee and poop on the grass in the centre of the track before each race many among us hypothesised that such dogs that downloaded had a better chance of winning by virtue of being less ‘distracted’ and more importantly carrying less weight. Bizarre therefore to see twenty six HOGsters with their faces pressed to the bar windows monitoring which dogs had managed to take a dump and then sprinting for the tote desk to slap on their bets in the 90 seconds or so before the little fluffy bunny with the rocket in his pocket went hurtling past the traps to be hotly pursued by half a dozen greyhounds hell bent on giving him a right kicking !
A minor bicker broke out between myself and Snake he having mislaid one of his few winning betting slips (‘Flat Form’ in the eighth since you ask). Despite assurances I did NOT have it and searching my jeans pockets three times it materialised in my handbag the next day (never trust a blonde eh ?- Ha! Ha! ).
As the evening progressed at a furious pace with a race every 10 minutes it was very apparent that having picked the winning dogs in eight out of the first ten races, that Mick & Pauline were quids in and will in future be revered as the Aga & Mrs Khan of the dog track ! . All agreed it was a fun night out so “Well Done” to Bob Long for organising yet another successful social event to keep us amused on these long winter nights
Addendum - when we got home we found that our own dogs - affectionately and collectively referred to as the 'Fuglies' (you can probably guess what that's an abbreviation) - or more specifically Alf - the Chief Fugly (two different coloured eyes would you believe !) had trashed the rubbish bin in the Kitchen , chewed up the empty cans of cat food (literally) and strewn the contents all through the hallway - Those of you who have been to our house will understand the sheer devastation dogs of this size (Harley Great Danes) are capable of !
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