Disaster has befallen the great Spindlehound (again). I was out and about having a very pleasant mornings stroll with my good pals Nelson and Rusty when out of the corner of my beady eyes I saw the unmistakable twitch and flourish of a squirrels tail. My heart quickened, the adrenalin pumped and I was off like a cross between tiger and a gazelle! I must say I am rather glorious when I am at full speed, it really is a sight to behold. Anyway to cut a long story short the little furry bugger ran up a tree and got away, so I was forced to slope back to the chaps to carry on our conversation (todays topic was the rising cost of hand made silken waistcoats). It was then that I noticed the warm sticky blood pooling around my delicate paw. Rusty took a large intake of doggy breath and Nelson nearly passed out – you would never have guessed he used to be in the RAF. A badly (practically nearly fatal) cut to the paw. Oh what a terrible thing to happen to a hound! My diminutive female human rushed to me like a greased ferret from her work to be by my side. I had by this point started to feel a bit woozy and before I know it I had been presented to the lovely people at the vets. They all love me there you know, my humans say its because they see the £ signs when they see my accident prone bag of fur hobbling through the door. I don’t fully understand this but I have seen the colour drain from the humans faces a few times in there. I was prodded, poked and manipulated and I was such a brave soul, not a single peep from me.* Five stitches don’t you know!
So here I am, suffering quietly and with great dignity with a near fatal cut on my pad. It is bandaged and everything. I shall recline, in repose and await to see what the ravages of time will do to my tattered mortal spindly leg.
- Additional material from short human. ‘I heartily object to the ‘I did not make a peep’ claim. I heard her whimpering, bleating and then the gnashing of teeth from outside the clinic door.’