I'm not very happy. I expect most of you know by now that I have been afflicted with a Split Claw and a Nasty Infection which is necessitating Staying Indoors. I am not too happy about this. It means Poppy gets to go out and Have Fun while I remain at home, doing what is, of course, the more important job of Guarding The House (and my boy, when he is here), but nevertheless I feel I have been given the rum end of the deal.
I have various ways of making sure my feelings are known.
As my friend, young iwinston would say woe is me.
I have found the way that is most immediately effective is to lie in the middle of places my people urgently want to go.
They can't ignore me when they have to step over/ around me. Mum in particular notices and pats me on the head when she goes by, but Dad just shouts: For Heaven's Sake Ted! get out of the way. He does this particularly loudly if he is carrying large armfuls of wood and I am sitting in the middle of the doorway.
Another trick I have up my sleeve to let me people know I am not feeling chuffed is to put my ears down and stare hard at them.
Unless I'm concentrating Very Hard, one ear occasionally creeps up a little, but if I work hard I can keep the no-ears-staring up all evening. It works well on Mum who always asks me what's wrong, Teddy? But Dad just says: where have your ears gone, Ted? And, after about ten minutes: that's enough staring now, Teddy.
Poppy, meanwhile, has been no help at all. She got back from her walk this morning, gave me a brief hello sniff, then went straight to curl up in a ball on her bed and has been asleep ever since.
But this is because she doesn't have to put up with an infected paw.
Would you like to see it? Here are three paws. Can you tell which one is the poorly one? (incidentally, although they don't look like they all belong to me, I assure you they are all mine, I didn't rope a random passing Westie in to be a paw model).
Is it this one? (and it is a paw, not the tip of a tail, despite what you might think. It's just been a while since I went to see Mrs D for a hair cut and I've turned niveous (go and look that one up, it's my new word for the day ;o) ).
No, it wasn't that one.
This one, perhaps?
So it must be.....
Yes. It's this red, angry and sore-looking one. To make matters worse, I had to suffer the indignity of having it SHAVED, so now I have three very woolly feet and one bald pink one. It's a good job I'm not allowed out really.
Still, the antibiotics are working and it's not bothering me as much now. The V.E.T told mum cheese wasn't the best thing to give pills in because it's fattening. I didn't altogether like the way she looked at me when she said that. For heaven's sake! I thought I'm a Running Dog! I do ten miles across the Chalk without breaking a sweat! It's not fat, woman, it's muscle! I tried to convey that to the V.E.T just by looking, also that I didn't think she could run ten miles across the Chalk aged eight (obviously doing the calculation that allows for human/ dog year differences). I don't think it worked, she just stared at me.
So I hold her responsible for mum suggesting this as an initial opener in our what shall we give Ted his pill in negotiations...
A raspberry! Ridiculous! I know Poppy likes them, but she eats Dad's hair when Mum's given him a hair cut for heaven's sake, so she's really no judge of fine cuisine. I countered with this...
But Mum wasn't having any of it, so in the end we agreed on this...
See the word 'palatable' in the photo below? I ask you! Clearly someone with a sense of humour was involved in designing the packaging. Either that or they never actually tried one themselves.
Anyway, I'm off to guard Poppy while she sleeps....another of my jobs.
And then I think I shall do some more Sitting In The Middle Of Important Places. Maybe if I do it enough, Mum will come round to the burgers, what do you think?
Love, Ted x