IT was the worst of times. It was NOT the best of times.

Eddie the Hotel Dog
Eddie the Hotel Dog

Two major traumas for me since my last column. Firstly on a walk by the river – usually the highlight of my day – the dog from hell suddenly appeared from nowhere and attacked me.

His owners go crazy, throwing themselves on the ground. Madness.

It gets worse. I get bitten on my flank. Blood is drawn and according to the other owners I am to blame. Attack is the best form of defence they say. This is not attack, this is downright lying.  

And then great nephews appear. Aged three and six, on a 17 day visit – but I can’t count so it seems interminable.

The older one can throw a decent stick and ball, but the younger one takes to poking fingers in my eyes, confusing me with a climbing frame or hiding my food bowl where I can’t reach it.

Fret not though. Toys are brought to appease me, and the wound is healing. There is light at the end of this fairly dark tunnel.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.