🐾 “Don Chucho y su Corte de Colas Revueltas.”
A story with real barking, noble jealousy and secret kennels… from the depths of Cacuelas.
Once upon a time, in the gardens of a lavish kennel called Cacuelas, there was an old, robust dog with a look of “I used to be more flirtatious than you”. His name was Don Chucho I, although those closest to him simply called him “the Emeritus of the Unleashed Hormones”.
Don Chucho was a noble mongrel, a mixture of Iberian hound, greyhound of power and podenco of the State. For years he was the alpha dog of the pack, the one who barked from the balcony with a solemn voice, while hiding bones in places where not even the CNI knew how to dig.
-“What a looker that mutt has,” sighed the neighborhood poodles as they scratched each other’s ears coquettishly.
🐶 A leader with more collars than principles
Although he was officially the guardian of the institutional bone, his real instinct was not in speeches… but in other people’s little bitches.
At night, when the park was silent, Don Chucho would go out to sniff the grass with more desire than etiquette. He liked them all: Dalmatians, Irish setters, French cockers, Swiss beagles… even an exotic Labrador nicknamed “Corina”, who walked around Cacuelas as if she were already a queen without a collar.
They say she had more lovers than hairs on the royal carpet, and that in the basement of Cacuelas there is a diary buried with names, dates and croquettes with dedication.
🐾 The Scorned Bitches Club
Stories jumped from kennel to kennel: one puppy jumped off the balcony after discovering that she shared a drinking fountain with three others. Another disappeared during a mysterious excursion to Monaco. And another was seen with a suitcase in her mouth saying, “I’m out of here, you’re not fooling me anymore with your pedigree promises!”
But old Chucho kept wagging his tail as if he were five years old and had a new bone to pick.
🦴 The lost bones of Cacuelas
Years later, golden bones began to appear in Swiss banks, hidden under strange names such as “Lucum Foundation”, “Zagatka” or “Canine Surprise Box N°3”.
And just as the IRS bloodhounds started sniffing around, Don Chucho said they were “spontaneous gifts from friendly bulldog sheiks” and returned a few bones with a “oops, I forgot to declare that” look on his face.
🐕🦺 The new royal litter
Today Cacuelas’ throne is occupied by Felipón, his formal, well groomed puppy, who only barks if he has an approved speech and never runs off to the park without a leash.
They say he doesn’t inherit his father’s seductive wiggle, but at least he’s not hiding behind the bushes with foreign puppies. That’s something.
💤 And the Emeritus… among palm trees and gourmet feedstuffs
Don Chucho now lives in AbuDogbi, lying in a hammock, surrounded by organic feed, golden toys and portraits of him as a young man, when he still lifted his paw with pride and not with arthrosis.
But sometimes, when the moon shines over the gardens of Cacuelas, a distant bark can be heard, a mixture of nostalgia, testosterone and hunting croquettes…
And some say that in his old tusk there is still the gleam of scandal.
An unpublished and very little institutional chapter of the royal dog saga…
After his golden retirement at AbuDogbi, Don Chucho I, Cacuelas’ old flirt dog, decided to take a little getaway to the countryside. His entourage told him there was a magical place, full of happy dogs, homemade croquettes, fluffy cushions and the smell of canine freedom: Mas Torrencito.
-A Catalan farmhouse where dogs rule? Bah… I’ll conquer that in two tail wags,” said Don Chucho, while combing his hair and adjusting his leather collar inlaid with Saudi gold.
🐕🦺 Triumphal arrival… or not so much
He appeared at the door as if he were entering Cacuelas: with his retinue of poodle lackeys, a make-up bulldog and two suitcase-carrying Chihuahuas.
But the Mas Torrencito dogs were not impressed for a second.
There were Masto, Maky, Mastitwo and Mamas, four noble guardians of rural tranquility, with honest eyes, clean paws and zero tolerance for doggy nonsense.
– “And who does this guy think he is?” growled Masto as he saw him get out of the car as if he were on a red carpet.
-“It smells like expensive perfume and a diplomatic mess,” whispered Mamas, puckering her muzzle.
Maky directly turned his back on him and went to lie in the sun. Mastitwo did not even salute him. A regal display worthy of the best series of thrones and necklaces.
🐾 Chucho tried to socialize, but…
He tried to play nice: – “Hello, comrades, do you want me to tell you how I buried bones in Switzerland?” -“Would you like a croquette stuffed with sheikh’s foie?”
Nothing.
Not a wagging tail, not a tilted ear.
Masto barked politely:
– “Here we don’t want posturing or inflated nobility. Here we share the croquette, we give up the bed to the visitor and we don’t chase other people’s setters”.
And so it was that Don Chucho and his entourage ended up camped outside, in the parking lot of the unwelcome. The old alpha was outraged. He, the Emeritus! Rejected by four village dogs! A scandal!
But those of Mas Torrencito knew well what they were doing. There, no pomp or “I used to be in charge” is allowed. There, he who does not know how to bark with humility, does not sit at the table or smell the ham for breakfast.
🦴 Rural epilogue
They say that, as he was leaving, Don Chucho muttered something like: – “In Cacuelas this didn’t happen…”
And Maky answered from afar: -“Well, that’s why we’re happy here, and over there… they’re still looking for bones in tax havens.”
Continuará……
But don’t worry… Don Chucho will be back. Because where there are croquettes, there is an attempt to reign.
From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!
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If you want, you can see our vouchers for weekends, retirees vouchers, at an incredible price … enter www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in MasTorrencito ….
