There are many great Tex stories. Here is but one.
I drove up to see Richard to stay for a few days. His flat was a tip of brew cans, foil, works, pipes etc. I walked up to the local chippy to get something to eat. The queue of 7 or so forced me to tie Tex to one of those old style zinc dustbins full of rubbish, must weigh 40 pounds, sufficient I thought for a few minutes. The queue all spun heads as a crashing sound came from outside. Tex must have seen a dog and pulled the bin over, this banged and Tex ran full pelt with this 40 pond chunk of metal thinking he was being chased by it. I ran out after him with all in shop and many passersby to see him charging across the busy road, cars screeched to a hault. He ran between two parked brand new cars, the bin clanging from one to the other leaving big dents then smashing off the front light cluster, both alarms went off. Tex tearing off in fear chased by a metal monster chased by me. He swung down by the post office, the bin smacked another car with the force of a sledge hammer, the bin, still hanging from hois neck swung close to killing 2 old ladies collecting thier penshions. I got hold of him, three alarm sirens , a trail of smashed cars, a line of litter from the bin, 30 odd people looking on. I unclipped him and said 'scarper' and we ran from car proud enraged men. We took the longer route so as not to lead the lynch mob to Richards door. We got on to the recreation ground, over the fence and to Richs' back door.
A deep draft of special brew and a deep lick to calm me down. Texs' memory is fortunately quite short on that sort of thing so he calmed down. Phew,
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