Pudsey and the Pasty

Last year a friend of mine invited me and Pudsey for a holiday in Cornwall. We grabbed our bucket, spade, and box of bonios and set off for a cottage on the outskirts of Padstow.
We all had plans; my friend wanted to see the May Day celebrations, I wanted a good sniff round Rick Stein's Deli, and Pudsey wanted a good sniff round Chalkie, and so the first couple of days were spent exploring and looking for an elderly Jack Russel with a bad attitude.
May Day arrived, and we set off early into town in order to catch as much of the festivities as possible. The town was packed, but we managed to find a parking space and set off to find the 'Obby Oss processions that were carrying on throughout the day.
We found the street were one was going to pass, and staked out a spot to camp for the display. Pudsey was brilliant. Despite the crowds and the heat, she didn't once complain, and stayed quietly by my side as we watched and took clickage.
We followed the procession to a pub where we topped up with fluids, and Pudsey had a good time sniffing around and meeting the locals, and we planned what to do for the rest of the morning. Tummies were beginning to rumble, and so we decided to head back to the harbour and have lunch in a pub where the previous day we'd found did special doggy meals upon request. Pudsey was all for this plan, and we set off with her in the lead, eager for more roast chicken.
But alas, because of the May Day celebrations, said pub was being used as the 'end of procession place' for the other Obby Oss, and so were not doing food, and also, greatest of sorrows, were not letting dogs in that day.
My friend got some beers in and I topped up Pudsey's water bowl, and we sat outside for a while watching the harbour while rethinking the modus operandi.
We heard that the Obby Oss was due to arrive at the pub fairly soon, so we decided to wait, watch that, then head off to hunt down lunch.
But Pudsey was hungry, and when a couple sat next to us chomping on pasties from a shop across the road, she forgot her manners and marched over to see if there was any pasty for her.
The couple couldn't resist Pudsey's big brown eyes, and after checking with me if it was alright for her to have some, gave up most of their pasties to the poor, starving, wee beastie.
Pudsey scoffed the lot, and was patted and fussed over until it was time for the couple to move on, and returned to my side and burped at me.
There was still no sign of the Obby Oss, and my friend and I were now getting very hungry, so leaving me with the dog, my friend went off to get some pasties for ourselves.
He came back with two steak ones, which set Pudsey's nose a-twitching again. We settled down on the now rather crowded pub forecourt, and tucked into lunch, with me sharing my meal with my furry friend.
With hindsight, I should have thought twice about letting Pudsey have rich, strange food, especially as she was 14 at the time and had had a bit of a gippy tummy the day before.
We were halfway through the pasties when it started.
Pudsey stopped eating, and turned green, which I know sounds unusual for a dog being covered in fur, but she managed it.
Before I could move her somewhere out of the way, she lost the pasty.
"Bowk" went Pudsey depositing regurgitated steak pasty over the forecourt.
"Bowk" she went again, as the Cornish pasty from the couple came back up.
"Bowk" I went, at the smell and sight of the contents of Pudsey's stomach.
"Bowk" went my friend as he turned round to see what was going on...

Suddenly there were a lot less people around us for some reason, and the manager of the pub was hovering near us, clutching a mop, bucket, old newspapers and a bin bag.
My friend, bless him, managed to clear up the mess (I would have 'bowked' even more if I'd tried) and we reckoned that then would be a good time to get Pudsey away from there before any more damage was done.
Pudsey was absolutely fine after emptying her tummy, and trotted through Padstow wagging her tail and smiling without a care in the world.
She has not been allowed pasty of any variety since though.