Once upon a time, there lived two dogs in a pretty stone doghouse in the countryside.  They were quite content with their lives, for the most part, although they did always wonder about their next-door neighbor, the Lady With the Broom.  She was a crabby old thing with a penchant for yelling, “Get out of my azaleas, you mangy mutt!!”  The two dogs never could understand why she built that huge wall between their houses, but they lived with it, until Mrs. Dog learned she was going to have puppies. 

Then she developed this uncontrollable craving to be a bad dog in the Lady With the Broom’s garden.  “Oooooohh,” she howled. “How I long to romp and play and poop in that pretty garden!”

Mr. Dog looked at her with his sad puppy eyes and said, “But you know you can’t romp or play or poop in that pretty garden, or the Lady would hit you with her Broom.  Besides, you’re in no condition to romp or play!”

So Mrs. Dog didn’t poop in the Lady’s garden, but she was too stupid to poop anywhere else, so soon she got a horrible tummyache.  And in the throes of agony, she groaned to her husband, “Before I die, I would so like to romp and play and poop in the Lady With the Broom’s garden!”

How could Mr. Dog refuse his wife’s last wish? He opened up the gate, and his wife waddled through, into the forbidden territory.  She certainly was in no condition to romp and play, but she did manage to take a nice big dump in the petunias.  After that she felt much better and was able to romp and play and wreak havoc with gusto.

The Lady With the Broom was not amused.  She glared at Mr. Dog, saying, “How dare you let your bohemian wife poop in my beauuuutiful garrden!  I’m shocked!”  So was Mr. Dog.  His wife was a border collie—anything but bohemian!

 “As a punishment,” the Lady continued, obviously unimpressed by Mrs. Dog’s lineage, “you must give me your firstborn puppy to raise as my own.”

And so it came to pass.  Mrs. Dog had six puppies, so her little Rapunzel was quickly forgotten when Mr. Dog turned her over to the Lady.

The Lady did not like Rapunzel at all, so she locked her in a kennel at the top of a tower, which was almost like locking her in the pound, and renamed her Rapoundzel because she thought it was a clever play on words, although really it was stretching it.  And there in the tower, Rapoundzel grew up to be a fine and beautiful border collie-schnauzer mix, what with daily feedings and groomings from the Lady with the Broom.

One day a handsome (or should I say pawsome?) rottweiller on a rabbit hunt emerged from the woods at the base of Rapoundzel’s tower. 

He watched with interest as the Lady flew her broom up to the top of the tower, where a – gasp – breathtakingly beautiful female dog was eagerly jumping up and down and yelping for her food.  The breathtakingly beautiful bitch was none other than Rapoundzel.  The rottweiller developed an instant craving to be a bad dog with her, but since he didn’t have a magic broom, he had to improvise a little.

When the Lady had left the tower for the day, he approached it and called out, “Rapoundzel, Rapoundzel! Throw down your long brown tail!”

And Rapoundzel threw it down because she was a good dog and accustomed to taking orders, and my!—it really was a long brown tail!  It went all the way down to the bottom of the tower, which was quite convenient for the pawsome rottweiller, who grabbed it and began to climb.

When he reached the top, he began to growl to her in his best romantic Italian but Rapoundzel was quite stricken.  He was so ugly!
(He was a rottweiller!  What else would you expect, even from a pawsome one?)

In fact, Rapoundzel was so stricken that she fell right out of the tower and landed on the Lady With the Broom, who happened to be flying in with the week’s groceries.  The Lady screeched out of habit, “Get out of my azaleas, you mangy mutt!” and then smacked both the rottweiller and Rapoundzel on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.  Rapoundzel and the rottweiller were so affronted, that they called the ASPCA, which promptly locked the Lady with the Broom in the Pound for people.  Rapoundzel and the rottweiller lived happily ever after, even though the Lady with the Broom probably didn’t.