Bloody hell

One of Victor Meldrew’s lesser known phrases was ‘What in the name of bloody hell?’, a rather more fruity alternative to the one for which he became famous. I only mention this because last night was a night for trotting out such a pertinent line. You see, A and I were in the kitchen fighting over the Chinese peanuts when suddenly there came this high-pitched death whine from the living room. Somehow, Susie, standing alone on the rug and doing nothing, had succeeded in breaking off her left dew claw. She was in obvious pain so I didn’t hang about, whisking her down to the vets just before closing time – they were getting their coats so weren’t best pleased. But forty minutes later she emerged, groggy, wobbly and with the most humungous bandage on her foot. Having already treated Arthur, heaven knows what the vets thought was going on at my house – some doggy variant of Guantanamo Bay perhaps?

Of course, with Susie in a weakened state, Miffy thought she’d make hay and go for top dog status even just for one night. So that meant a lot of tailing of Susie and sticking her nose up her bum, which elicited throaty effoff growls from the target despite her debilitation. And then around about 9pm, with the sedation wearing off, Miffy saw her window of opportunity closing and went for one last botty hunt. Except, before she got there, and out of sight of us, there came a squeak and a cry. Talk about ground-dog day! Off we went on an inspection and yes, she’d also ripped her dew claw. Somehow. No idea what happened, ditto with Susie. The whole thing was quite remarkable – we’ve had the dogs for an aggregate 17 years and I’ve never experienced a claw injury; now we’d had three in two weeks, and two in four hours. Is it a record? Thankfully, Miffy’s was nowhere as bad as Susie’s and we simply wrapped up her foot in some flexi-bandage. It didn’t stop her really milking it though, hopping around like an amputee. They don’t half lay it on thick these dogs...

What particularly impressed me throughout both these incidents was A’s sense of priorities. Get the dog off the rug, it’s bleeding. Quick, quick, and here he comes with his Bounty and Carpet Rescue. Bless him. Never mind the sore paw, just worry about the blood. Considering this is the same rug that’s been pissed and pooped, I didn’t see the panic myself...