Teacup was a poodle.
Lady Hampsley was a lady.
Lady Hampsley was a very glamorous and famous lady.
Teacup was a very poorly and flea-ridden poodle.
Lady Hampsley could afford anything she wanted.
Teacup was in a badly-run Pound in a relatively baron wasteland on the city outskirts surrounded by nothing but Display Home Villages and a few spooky service stations.
Lady Hampsley was plump and blush.
Teacup was abused and brownish-white.
Lady Hampsley decided, one morning, to do something Generous. The press always liked it when she did.
Teacup was going to be put down in the morning if nobody came to save her from The Pound. That's what happened there if nobody did.
Lady Hampsley decided to extend her generosity... to a dog.
Teacup had had such a bad life. SUCH a bad life.
Lady Hampsley ordered Morris, her Helicopter FlightsMan, to air her immediately to the most rundown pound on the city outskirts.
Teacup could barely feel her legs for hunger.
Lady Hampsley touched down at The Pound and waited for the Newspaper People.
Teacup heard Lady Hampsley enter the cage-rows.
Lady Hampsley said "No. No. Maybe. No" as she drifted past the other contenders.
Teacup did all she could just to stand and look elegant.
Lady Hampsley saw Teacup.
Teacup saw Lady Hampsley.
"This one!" cried Lady Hampsley.
Teacup's heart did somersaults and caught metaphoric bones in its non-existent mouth.
Lady Hampsley walked outside with Teacup.
The Newspaper People took a thousand photos, with hopes of headlines like "She's Done It Again", "No Lady Like Her!" and "Hampsley Helps a Horrid Hound".
Lady Hampsley tossed Teacup high into the air in a gesture of affection for the cameras.
Teacup flew, overjoyed.
Morris turned into a slow-motion version of himself in the cockpit of the helicopter and let out a silent scream.
The Newspaper People kept taking photos.
Lady Hampsley looked up.
Teacup soared into the rotor-blades of the chopper.
The end.
