Ouch. Hobbled inside with a sad face. Mom pounced on me to check that I’d not stepped on a thorn or some other nasty sharp object.
Nothing.
“Oh dear heavens Fudgie, you’ve pulled your paw!” Mom exclaimed.
Waggled my eyebrows at her. Whatever.
Think I need some special treatment here. How about some of that tasty liver stuff for dinner?
I continued hobbling for more than a day.
Usually when I zap my paw I get over it pretty quickly, but this time it stayed sore.
Think Mom was getting a tad tired of hefting me up and down the stairs.
She loaded me into her car – the little one – not the bigass one that I need a step to get into. (Although honestly, she put me in and took me out so no steps were needed anyway.)
We only drove a little way.
Hmmmm…. spotted the ostrich the moment we went through the gates.
Gave mom a skeef look. This is not the usual dressing gown dude. This is jail!
Mom scratched my ear and said relax Fudges – there’s a dressing gown dude at this place too.
She did not lie. There was indeed a dressing gown dude and a very nice gentle one he was too.
He said I must have pulled a muscle, gave me a jab which did not even make me flinch, and handed mom some pills for my own furry self.
My paw got a bit better. A few days later we got back into the car and drove back to the same place.
I was not one bit worried when I saw that skanky bird. Not one bit I tell you.
Until… Mom left me in the car and disappeared from sight. She does this when I go to jail.
Slobbered on the window. Oi! Hullloooo. Where are you going?
It got worse. She opened up the boot and my baskie and duvet magically appeared.
Mom foofled with my ear. Sorry Fudgie-wena – you’re going to have some lovely cage rest for a few days whilst Alpha and I take my little car to Granma.
You can’t come with us because we are flying back.
Stomped off to my cell in a fat snit!
How rude to dupe your little doglet.
They’re back now and my paw is better.
*As told to Ginny Stone.
