Delilah, who was a Basset Hound, was not enjoying her classes in law enforcement.
Many, many other Basset Hounds aspired to careers in law enforcement, where their keen sense of smell and short legs made them ideal for work in the crime lab. The bloodhounds, with their long bounding strides, were far more suited for work in the field. Basset Hounds, meanwhile, liked to sit in one place and examine evidence.
Delilah didn’t want to be seen as different, so she signed up for classes in law enforcement, even if the person who took care of her was not a police officer. In fact, her person was a soft spoken chef whose small restaurant drew culinary fans from all over town. The word among the locals was that the chef’s food was excellent, with the potential to be sensational...it just felt as if something was missing.
Bored and depressed, Delilah skulked off, after a class in evidence location, and rested under a tree. To her surprise, a pig was at the very same tree, bored and depressed.
“You look bored and depressed,” said Delilah, who always seemed to care about anyone who was nearby.
“Indeed I am,” said the pig, “for I am trapped in a miserable academic program as a chef’s assistant.”
“Oh,” said Delilah who, quite frankly, found the notion of such a program quite appealing.
“Oh, indeed,” said the pig, whose name was Ned. “Just one class after another about the aroma of food. The exact smell of properly prepared brisket. The exact smell of a perfectly broiled flounder.”
A thin thread of saliva fell from the corner of Delilah’s mouth.
“How to tell good soil for a grape arbor from bad soil. Which involves rolling around in the soil, you know. I don’t like getting dirty.”
Delilah, swept up in the thought of such a job, began to roll around on the floor, back and forth.
“I didn’t want to seem strange,” said Ned, “so I took these classes. In truth, what I really want to go into is law enforcement.”
“Well, why didn’t you?” Asked Delilah.
“Because I didn’t want to be seen as different,” said Ned. “I was afraid people would make fun of me, and make siren noises when I passed by. I just can’t take those classes anymore, though. All they talk about is truffles.”
Delilah licked her chops. Truffles sounded awfully good, and the fact that other Basset Hounds found that a bit odd suddenly seemed very unimportant.
So Delilah took all of Ned’s classes, while Ned took classes in Finding Missing Children, Catching Runaway Criminals, Sniffing Out Things That Aren’t Allowed, Sniffing Out Dangerous Things, and How to Smell Fear. Fortunately, their teachers were none the wiser.
Ned became a truly outstanding police pig, while Delilah now eats food full of truffles. They are cooked by the finest chef in the land, who is renowned for her work with truffles, which she calls “the missing ingredient.”
Many, many other Basset Hounds aspired to careers in law enforcement, where their keen sense of smell and short legs made them ideal for work in the crime lab. The bloodhounds, with their long bounding strides, were far more suited for work in the field. Basset Hounds, meanwhile, liked to sit in one place and examine evidence.
Delilah didn’t want to be seen as different, so she signed up for classes in law enforcement, even if the person who took care of her was not a police officer. In fact, her person was a soft spoken chef whose small restaurant drew culinary fans from all over town. The word among the locals was that the chef’s food was excellent, with the potential to be sensational...it just felt as if something was missing.
Bored and depressed, Delilah skulked off, after a class in evidence location, and rested under a tree. To her surprise, a pig was at the very same tree, bored and depressed.
“You look bored and depressed,” said Delilah, who always seemed to care about anyone who was nearby.
“Indeed I am,” said the pig, “for I am trapped in a miserable academic program as a chef’s assistant.”
“Oh,” said Delilah who, quite frankly, found the notion of such a program quite appealing.
“Oh, indeed,” said the pig, whose name was Ned. “Just one class after another about the aroma of food. The exact smell of properly prepared brisket. The exact smell of a perfectly broiled flounder.”
A thin thread of saliva fell from the corner of Delilah’s mouth.
“How to tell good soil for a grape arbor from bad soil. Which involves rolling around in the soil, you know. I don’t like getting dirty.”
Delilah, swept up in the thought of such a job, began to roll around on the floor, back and forth.
“I didn’t want to seem strange,” said Ned, “so I took these classes. In truth, what I really want to go into is law enforcement.”
“Well, why didn’t you?” Asked Delilah.
“Because I didn’t want to be seen as different,” said Ned. “I was afraid people would make fun of me, and make siren noises when I passed by. I just can’t take those classes anymore, though. All they talk about is truffles.”
Delilah licked her chops. Truffles sounded awfully good, and the fact that other Basset Hounds found that a bit odd suddenly seemed very unimportant.
So Delilah took all of Ned’s classes, while Ned took classes in Finding Missing Children, Catching Runaway Criminals, Sniffing Out Things That Aren’t Allowed, Sniffing Out Dangerous Things, and How to Smell Fear. Fortunately, their teachers were none the wiser.
Ned became a truly outstanding police pig, while Delilah now eats food full of truffles. They are cooked by the finest chef in the land, who is renowned for her work with truffles, which she calls “the missing ingredient.”
