The Shaggy Dog

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[Barks]

(music) ["The Shaggy Dog" plays]

[Man] Go on, get out of here!

Go on, get!

[Barks]

(music) [song continues]

[Narrator] This is a shaggy dog story.

It could've happened anywhere

or to anyone.

It so happened that

it happened to Wilson Daniels.

A man who loved people,

but hated dogs.

Go on, get out of here. Get!

Go on, get out of here.

- Morning, dear.

- Good morning, dear.

Blast!

Yes, dear?

Ridiculous!

Of all the sickly sentimentality.

Giving a medal to a dog.

Don't get the paper in the butter, dear.

- Making a big hero out of him.

- What did he do?

Dragged a baby from a burning building.

Who couldn't do that?

Don't upset yourself, Wilson.

Dogs! Yapping and snapping

at a man's heels.

Man's best friend. If I ever find

the idiot who said that...

You must remember, sweet,

that most people love dogs.

I suppose I'm a freak because I don't.

It's nothing to be ashamed of, dear.

Frankly, I think that dogs

don't like mailmen because,

because sometimes they bring bad news.

Animals sense those things, you know.

Freeda, I am proud of the 20 years

I've spent in the mail service.

Neither snow, rain, sleet nor dogs

kept me from my appointed rounds,

but those blasted dogs tried!

You were very brave.

- Where are the boys?

- They had breakfast early.

They're down in the cellar

tinkering with something.

- What with this time?

- I'm not sure.

Is there something called

an "issle interceptor"?

"Issle interceptor?"

You must mean "missile interceptor."

I've been thinking, as long as you're

not taking a firm hand with Wilby,

- I've got to do something about it.

- What do you mean, dear?

That mess he got us into last week.

- Which mess was that?

- The one where he had the police

throw the new dean of the divinity

school in jail as a public enemy.

Oh, well...

that was because of the picture on

the bulletin board in the post office.

It did look a little like the new dean.

Now, what I propose to do

about Wilby is...

Missile interceptor!

[Loud explosion]

Why is everything shaking?

Maybe you better switch it off, Wilby.

How can I switch it off?

I haven't switched it on yet.

Maybe we better take it off

the launching site.

Yeah, hurry!

Never mind, it's too late.

Get the upstairs area cleared.

Hurry up!

[Explosions, rumbling]

Pop, could you and Mom

go on outside now

and sort of hurry, please?

Well, save something!

- Moochie, where's Wilby?

- He's still in the basement.

Come on, Wilby!

[Loud rumbling]

Well, I guess we've officially

entered the rocket age, eh, Pop?

It'd be great to be up there

riding it, wouldn't it, Pop?

I wish I was on it right now.

Wilson.

- Pop sure was sore.

- Yeah, I know.

I always seem

to rub him the wrong way.

Wilby?

- Pop, how'd you get up here?

- I piled up some boxes.

Wilby, I'm sorry, but I want you to get

rid of all that junk in the basement.

- All, sir?

- All of it.

Dismantle the workshop,

bury the chemicals,

- and give away those gadgets.

- Yes, sir.

I want you to lose or give away

all the mice, hamsters, bats, crickets,

bugs, snails and whatever

plagues of mankind lurk down there.

Get off this roof, both of you, before

you fall off and ruin the flower beds.

Be careful, Pop,

those boxes look rickety.

Thank you, I'll do all right. Thank you.

[Crashing]

We better get down from here.

[Car horn beeps]

Hi, Allison.

That's old knothead for you.

Always showing off.

The flowers! That's just

what Pop said not to do.

- You all right, Wilby?

- Sure, I'm fine.

Buzz, may I talk to you for a moment?

Excuse me.

- Look, Wilby, I'm in a hurry.

- What about my seven bucks?

- What about it?

- Cough it up.

Pop pulled the plug on my allowance.

Look, I'm sorry, but you know how it is,

I got a date with Allison.

I'm sick and tired

of financing your romances.

I'd like to take Allison out myself.

- You want a date with Allison?

- Why not?

Wilby, have you ever taken a girl,

any girl, out on a date?

Well... not exactly.

Now you want to move right in

on the most popular girl in town?

Buzz, are we or are we not

going to play tennis?

- Coming. Excuse me.

- Just a minute, Buzz.

Great suffering cats.

[Speaks French]

What's she saying?

[Speaks French]

- What are you doing?

- Having a look at the new neighbors.

They're moving into that gloomy old

Coveny mansion.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

Give me my glasses.

Who are they, anyway?

He's the new assistant curator

at the county museum.

A man by the name of Andrassy.

Dr. Mikhail Andrassy.

My reports aren't in yet.

But Murphy Jones who leased the place

told me...

Don't tell me how you get your gossip.

What else do you know?

Well, he's supposed to be

a well-known art expert.

He spent some time in a prison camp

after the war.

Reason, unknown.

He worked in the famous Uffizi museum

in Florence, Italy.

There is a daughter, 17 years old.

Been studying art in Paris.

How dare they bring a camel

into this neighborhood?

No!

- It's a dog!

- [Barking]

A blasted, dreaded dog!

That is correct.

One Bratislavian sheep dog.

It's supposed to be a very rare breed.

- I'm moving into the back bedroom.

- Don't start falling apart.

You know very well that dog thing

is all in your mind.

All in my mind?

I itch, my sinuses are ballooning up,

my throat's constricting,

so I can hardly breathe.

Those old Pekinese wounds on my ankle

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