A/N: So, this is totally silly but just a bit of fun! I hope you enjoy it and don't think I've completely gone mad! If you think I have gone mad, you're probably right! :)
The Waiting Game
Day 1:
It began on a Monday, as Mrs Patmore removed the large and delightfully smelling piece of pork from the main oven. Sizzling and spitting, with a thick, golden layer of crackling, the piece of meat was a fine monster to behold. Mrs Patmore inhaled deeply at the delicious smell, and rested the huge pot onto the bench, to allow the meat to settle.
It would make a fine meal for the family. She inhaled again….but so did someone else.
Two big eyes stared unblinkingly at the large pot on the bench, close but just out of reach. Four paws shifted lightly and a golden tail gave a soft, expectant wag as delicious scents filled a large, wet, black, very sensitive nose. Lips were licked and four paws shifted again.
Mrs Patmore turned her back to tackle the next stage of the meal and she called out orders to the maids, who rushed back and forth with pots and pans and other, less appetising foods. He merely watched from his location near the door. Back and forth people moved, back and forth the food was carried about. But that delicious smell remained exactly where it was, calling out to him.
Two eyes observed carefully. Many feet kept passing by, keeping him from that delicious smelling meat that sat so teasingly on the wooden bench.
Pans clanged, knives sliced and voices chattered but still the eyes observed. Waiting.
Finally, the big, wet, sensitive nose could take no more, and with another big, wet lick of his lips all four feet shifted and with a wagging tail, he made his move.
Foolishly, he rushed in. Paws clattering on the stone floor as he raced towards the meat that kept calling out to him.
Mrs Patmore stopped. Mrs Patmore turned. Seeing the incoming danger she shrieked and waved her towel wildly as Pharaoh rushed towards the table.
"He's goin' for t' meat!" Daisy's cry rang out as the entire kitchen staff stopped and turned to observe the battle between dog and cook.
"Be off! Be off!" Mrs Patmore shrieked. Whipping wildly at him, the towel swiped across the big, wet nose and Pharaoh came skidding to a halt, then with paws and claws clattering, he tried to make his escape away from the vicious towel that was still being wildly lashed about.
"Filthy mutt! Get out me kitchen!" Mrs Patmore's towel whipped out at him again, clipping him across his departing bottom.
She exhaled loudly, one hand clutching at her bosom at the disaster she'd just averted. "That bloomin' dog's goin t'be 'death o' me!"
With his tail between his legs, Pharaoh clattered back upstairs to re-join his master, nose and bottom smarting, he felt rather sorry for himself. The smell of that delicious meat still lingering tauntingly within his sensitive nostrils. He licked his lips again at the mere thought, he'd been so close. Next time, next time he'd succeed.
Big eyes observed his master and he nudged lightly at a human arm. Lord Grantham looked down at his dog and smiled affectionately, patting his big head with love.
"What's the matter boy?" Lord Grantham asked, noticing the rather sad look on his faithful friend's face.
Pharaoh merely whined softly. Next time, next time he'd succeed.