If you are a regular reader of my modest diary offerings, you will be aware that my life has become romantically interesting lately. Whilst I continue to contemplate Nelson in his new starring role as heart warmer and all round companion, I will relay recent events that do not involve Nelson, who is currently spreading his own brand of hairy mayhem in Oslo. He has a lifelong fascination with lemmings, and has an impressive collection of paraphernalia relating to these frenzied furry critters. He has gone on a spotting jaunt, armed with his camera, to seek out the Norwegian specimen.
I have recently found myself enveloped in January/February gloom. Not one to wallow, I decided to try and drag myself, paws first, out of this maudlin abyss. Exercise was the solution, I was fairly sure of this. However I came a cropper after an unexpected (and entirely not my fault) incident where I became over excited on seeing a woodland beastie silhouetted in the distance. With no discernible hope of getting anywhere near the said beastie, I set off with great houndly haste and an unswerving positive attitude.
After a short period of ineffective manic zooming and limb flailing, I returned to a waiting Hector. Hector was having his own difficulties. Having just become the proud owner of a pair of varifocal spectacles, he was stood in the field, peering all around him like a confused, bleary eyed, meerkat.
I evidently came into focus as I shambled back towards him, and I noticed that he was sporting a distinct look of displeasure on his wee beardy face. I looked up at him adoringly, he looked at me with a look of dismay. It was then that he uttered a profoundly reprehensible string of expletives. I peered down to see what he was blethering on about….and it would seem that I had a slight paw owie. This curtailed our walk, and to be honest, I must admit that I had a bit of a twinge in them.
Once at home I was made to stand on a towel whilst the injury checklist began. Apparently all lurchers and sighthounds have a special checklist owing to their natural ability to get into scrapes and speed related mishaps. I was naturally very brave and did not flinch once. The conclusion was that I had acquired multiple abrasions on all four pawski’s. One of which would not stop sneezing out scarlet tears…so off we went to the vets.
Thankfully, no stitches were needed, but I had to wear baby socks to let them heal without any nibbling interference. To make matters worse, it has been snowing here is deepest, darkest Hampshire, and so I had to go outside with my trotters trussed up in poo bags (unused) to keep them dry for my allotted short wee and food disposal outings. I am not one to complain as you know and I bore the discomfiture with the quiet grace that you would expect from me. Not a peep did I make, and I definitely did not demand medicinal sausages. Or extra curricular chest scratches and ear twiddles. I did have my daily antibiotics in a bit of cheese though, which was rather nice.
As I was administered to in the kitchen, I spotted something rather splendid. I have my beady eye on a new woolly item that appeared in the house for the tiny terrors birthday. Hector outdid himself in the gift buying department with a brilliant snail tea cosy. The tiny terror was beside herself, it doesn’t take much. I have form with tea cosies and she carefully explained to me what would happen if I stole this one and ate the pom pom.
On the subject of birthdays, Hector is trying to ignore a significant birthday that is fast approaching. The tiny terror is out of her mind with angst, as she naturally wants to celebrate this event, Hector…not so much.
Her list of ideas, which circumnavigate his peculiar interests, so far have included:
Tank spotting with a picnic luncheon
Pocket watch fettling
A monthly subscription to Bifurcated Rivets for the Uninitiated
As she now works from home, she is what she calls, slightly hampered by a modest budget that does not befit the enormity of the birthday event, she would need to modify her ideas. Therefore the prospect of tandem skydive turned into Hector leaping off the wardrobe whilst holding aloft a cotton hanky. This was then deemed problematic as the wardrobes are built in. I will naturally keep you posted. Thankfully my great pal grandad Tom will be staying with us, and he is the undisputed party tiger.
The other exciting piece of news is that we are toodling off for a weekend away with some marvellously spiffy friends very soon. The tiny terror has been bouncing about like a spring loaded ferret and Hector has suggested that he might well be cheerful, and, at a push, jaunty!
With so many things to consider I am going to go and polish my fossil collection and have a well earned cup of Earl Grey and a figgy roll.
Pip pip dearest pal.
One thought on “Spindle’s poorly paws”
Oh dear, poorly paws are no fun! We sighthounds have a way of damaging our paws, though I haven’t yet been subjected to the indignity of wearing poo bags on my feet. Hope yours are better soon. Much love, Pearl xx
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