Wednesday 13 January 2010

Oh, for goodness' sake.  It had just begun to thaw.

I mean - it had literally begun to thaw properly.  I rise this morning - exit my house to download my first weemail of the day and what do I find?  Another INCH - at least - OF SNOW.

It really is most tiresome.  My partner and I returned to work yesterday - perhaps for the second or third time only since Christmas - and all was well.  And now we are once again snowbound.  An inch at least and still it snows yet.

However.  All this is as nothing compared with the other news that greeted me when I opened my eyes this morning; the earthquake in Haiti.  My heart goes out to all those innocent souls.  Firefighters from my own country and sniffer-dogs and aid-workers have also been despatched by the wonderful President Obama of North America.  My heart and good wishes are with the good folk of Haiti today.

Back to more domestic matters.  Some of my dearest online friends have been good enough to share with me how much they have been moved by the story of my life.  I cannot place an earthly price on how much this means to me.  But I write my history not to ask for your pity - I write, as you will ultimately see, to underscore how grateful I am for my lot in life.  How lucky I am.  Each day sees me happier than the day I was before.  My life began under the most horrendous circumstances, which brought me within, literally, seconds of death on more than one occasion.  But now, I have a warm, loving home with many, many friends, both online and here in my town.  And you may be certain that for YOU - reading this now - I am profoundly thankful.

But be not deceived - I am still VERY annoyed about the snow.  An inch at least - and it is STILL snowing.  Either this - or my partner's dandruff issues have FINALLY got out of paw.  I suspect the former - but would not be surprised at the latter.  Don't tell her I barked this...

PART SIX

I opened my eyes slowly.  I couldn't, for the life of me, imagine where I was and what had happened.  I found myself in a metal enclosure, some four or five feet above the floor.  The room was very warm and smelled clean.  I felt groggy and numb.  My insides felt as though they had been scrubbed with sandpaper and hosed through with a high-pressure water jet.  I did notice, however, that my jaw no longer felt slack.  I couldn't move properly, as I seemed to have been wedged into my cage and was being held in with tightly-packed blankets.  I also found, to my infinite shame, that I had been to the toilet in the blankets.  In addition to that, most of the fur on the left side of my face and body had been shaved off.  I wondered why my man had not come to collect me.

Looking down into the room, I discovered that I was not alone.  Opposite me, in a larger metal pen on the floor, a large tousle-furred grey and black dog lay dozing.  His pen bore the signs of long-term occupancy.  A large, well-gnawed, chew was behind him and a big brown blanket was in the far corner, on which sat a little teddy-bear.  Also in the pen was a large bowl of water.  Large swathes of this dog's fur was growing back where, like mine, it had been shaved.  I wondered if he might be able to tell me where I was, but I didn't want to wake him.

I looked around the room again.  Opposite me to the right, next to the other dog's pen was a small door.  Sunlight streamed in through the window in the door, which opened out into a grassy area.
"You're up, then." said a deep, gruff voice suddenly.  The fellow opposite had woken up and was grinning at me.

"Hello." I said weakly.

"I'm Bobby."  he said.  "Who are you?"

"I can't remember."

"Not surprised.  You were in a h*ll of a state when you can in.  How're you feeling?"

"Horrible.  Bit better than before though.  What has happened to me?"

"They gave you a little operation when you came in." replied Bobby, "And then they put you in there for the night.  I think you surprised them all, 'cause they said your temperature was rising quickly after the op.  You were still fast asleep, so they decided to fix your broken bones while you were still out. That was a couple of days ago and you've been asleep since then."

"Blimey." I muttered.  "So this is still the same place, then?"

"Yeah." replied Bobby. "But this is a special bit, just for the REALLY sick ones like us.  They said it's called the Intensive Care Unit.  I've been here on my own for ages.  It's nice to see a friendly face - even if it is a bit of a mashed-up one."

I tried to smile, but found that I couldn't, so I asked my new friend what had happened to him.  "Car crash."  he replied, frowning.  "I was a right bl**dy mess.  Stupid drunk kid smashed into my owner's car.  I went through the windscreen.  Thank g*d my owner wasn't killed."

"Blimey!" I croaked again.

"Hmmm..." muttered Bobby. "Well, I'm on the mend now, but it's been a long battle.  Can't say it's been pleasant."  He sighed again, and tried to assume a brighter air.  "Don't know why people drive like that." he said.  "At least he hit us - thank heavens for small mercies - we'd just overtaken a young woman with two little tots in the back of her car.  If we'd not done that, he'd have hit them instead."  Bobby shook his head.

"What about the person who hit you?" I asked him.

"Huh!" he snorted. "They mopped him off the road with a sponge.  Serves him bl**dy well right as well."  I nodded.  "I miss my owner so much.  He's only able to visit me at the weekend.  I miss our walks.  Nearly there though.  I've been doing really well."

"Good." I said.  I felt too tired to be chatty, but Bobby didn't seem to mind.  He had clearly missed having company and I was more than happy to listen as he talked on, telling me all about his family, his owner and his life before the car crash.

His stories cheered me and I grew comfortable as I listened to him, feeling happier all the time that my broken and shattered body had been mended and that, if Bobby could recover from his pain and injuries then perhaps so could I...

Good night.