Sunday, 4 October 2009

Sunday 4 October 2009



I am NOT a happy dog.


Yes. I had the operation.

When I stated previously that "I would resist it with every fibre of my being", I would like to say that I tried. I really tried. However, I neglected to factor-in the vets' ready availability of extremely potent sleeping draughts. Following the sensation of the tiny pin-prick, I was mid-way through telling my surgeon EXACTLY what I thought of him, when my eyelids became unaccountably heavy and I collapsed into the welcoming arms of Morpheus. When I awoke, my right eyelid had been stitched closed (the stitches held in place by a button - a button, of all things! The indignity!!) and the anti-tamper abomination shown above had been affixed. I was - and continue to be - extremely angry. That barked, my eye DOES feel a great deal better now. The stitches come out in a day or two; and the button/stitches combo has been useful for procuring treats from sympathetic folks. Hehehe...

My only other comfort in this is that I understand that my wife, Isolde, is also having to sport such an item, having recently undergone a minor surgical procedure to stitch a cut, sustained whilst pursuing a wily beastie. And she had more stitches than I did, so she has to wear her collar for longer. Swings and roundabouts. Hehehehe...

This, however, is NOT the most tumultuous event to have taken place in the past seven days. Oh no. My partner has said that I must post the dreadful event of the latest Thursday on my blog for you to read - and then the event will never be raised between us again. I tried pretending to be asleep in order to evade this necessity, but, alas she was not fooled. Oh dear...

Thursday evening saw my partner and I tripping out for our regular evening walk. 'Twas a delightful occasion. I was sans lampshade collar (aka The Abomination), and glorying in the fresh evening scents and my freedom to run. We were a little later than usual, but not enough to concern my partner. After my nightly swim in the ford, I was overjoyed to pick up the scent of the local fox, my current favoured quarry. Off I sped.

And then, it all went horribly, terribly, awfully wrong.

The scent of the vulpine maiden (for 'twas a vixen) was strong and enticing. I ran and ran and ran - and suddenly found myself in unfamiliar territory, with neither vixen nor partner. Poo and double-poo.

At one point, I thought I heard my partner calling and ran in that direction. But the trail was cold.

I ran through hedges, through streams, across gardens and roads, and finally regained a familiar path. I stopped for a rest. The sky was now thoroughly dark. I carried on trotting along the path that I knew would take me home. At the point where I had to cross a busy road, I paused to wait for a car to pass, as my partner had taught me. However, this car, after passing me stopped, and reversed towards me. The car door opened.

"Hello." said a female voice. She sounded nice. The car was the same shape as the one belonging to my partner's parents. There was a man driving and a lady in the passenger seat, I raised my snout to sniff the lady's perfume.

Hurrah!!! It was my partner's parents! Despite the fact that I was so close to home, my paws were sore and I had some thorns stuck into the flesh on my back. I decided to accept the lift and be driven the short remainder of the journey home.

As the car moved off, and then gained speed as it passed straight by the turning into the road where stood the dear little house that I shared with my partner, I became a little uneasy. Perhaps my partner was waiting for me at her parents' house...? But no! We went straight past that turning too! As we passed under a street light, I took a closer look. This was NOT the car belonging to my partner's parents. And the couple in the front were complete strangers.

Shrinking as far as I could into the back seat of the car, trembling uncontrollably, I began to cry.

To be continued.....

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