Dear Oscar the Wonder Dog

I love you with all my heart.  But you absolutely put the heart across me today.
It’s been a rough week, by any standards.  At the beginning of last week I collapsed under the worst kind of vomiting bug.  So bad, in fact, that I had to have a vicious injection in my bottom just to stop the puking. 

I suggested, of course, that maybe the doctor would like to put the needle in my arm, but he refused, on the basis that there’s more muscle in my bottom than in my arm.  He could be right, I suppose. But if he is, my arm is the only thing in the world with less muscle than my bottom.

Anyway, the shot stopped the vomiting eventually, but the suddenness and veracity of the puking was such that the part of my inner ear that controls nausea went bonkers.  When I woke up on Thursday morning, I was as deaf as a post.  When my hearing finally returned, I had vertigo.  Which is an ongoing problem.  Apparently, it could last for six weeks.  Lovely.

But all that faded into insignificance compared to today’s drama.

We all know that it was supposed to be stormy today.  I won’t pretend to have been terribly worried.  We’ve had storms before.  Needless to say, I’d prefer not to put you out in the garden when we go to work on bad days, but needs must. 
If we don’t go to work all four of us will have to live in your kennel.

Sometime after half past four this evening, I got a phone call from a very nice woman who lives next door to us.

The news wasn’t good.  The ridiculous winds had blown the fence panels out of their places all along our back gardens.  The panels, needless to say, are destroyed and must now be replaced.  But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Our other dog, your brother (yes, I know, you’re not blood related, but adopted children are considered siblings, so why not adopted dogs?) Marley had been found trotting around the neighbour’s garden.  And when he was called to heel, he had the wit to answer the call.  They say border collies are the most intelligent dogs.

 

Marley was safe,  and was being cared for by another neighbour, until we got home.  But you had disappeared.

My beloved, disabled, wild-at-heart little stray.  My heart nearly stopped.

You are the dog that I chose. 

Although I love Marley dearly, His Nibs chose him, and I know that Marley is more loyal to him than to me.  Marley adores His Nibs, and follows him everywhere, tripping my husband up at least once a day.

You, on the other hand, were the one who captured my affection at first sight.  We didn’t get you from a rescue centre.  I got you from the pound, on your fifth day of captivity, the day you were due to be put down.

When I brought you home, and you turned out to have a life threatening illness, I was the one who insisted that we ignore the fact that you’re a mongrel from the pound, and keep paying to make sure you weren’t in pain, and could be cured if possible.

And I was with you the night you were hit by that car.  The one that caused you to lose your front leg, and hop around ever since, a tripod where once you were a quadruped.  You broke my heart, with your yelping and crying, and struggling to master the stairs again.

You were the one that finally inspired me to write a book.  Just last Sunday, I finished my first draft and printed off the whole thing, ready to start my first re-write.

The main theme of the book is taken from the look I sometimes see in your eye.  You see, I know that dogs can’t talk, but I believe that they have strong personalities.

And I know that you’re an  independent soul.  I know that you think you’re above the dog food we feed you, and that we should be feeding you the chicken, sausages, and other things we eat.  I know that you think you shouldn’t have to sleep in your little blue bed, but that you belong on our bed.

Not going to happen, my friend.  Not until you get a job and start paying your share of the mortgage.

But the drive home today, with diversions and trees and debris flying around the road, seemed to take forever.

I had visions of you out on the road.  Not a life skill you possess, as we know.  The last time you were on the road on your own you ended up losing a limb.
Or maybe you were running with another escaped dog, in lamb season, a hopping target for an angry farmer.
Or maybe you were just wandering around, getting into fights with bigger, stronger, able bodied dogs.
Poor His Nibs was as bad as I was, if not worse.  I don’t think we exchanged two sentences, all the way home.

The kindly neighbour who was taking care of Marley came out to greet us when we got home.            I don’t think you or he will ever know the favour he did us when he told us that he had found you.

I’ll admit it.  There was tears.  And His Nibs wasn’t much better.

Isn’t it great to have good neighbours? 

And good little dogs who know when to come home, to warmth and comfort and food and safety, instead of following their nose out into the wide blue yonder.

Now.  There’s no fence panels in the back garden anymore.  And I can’t go through another evening like this evening.
And so I’m taking a huge chance.  I’m going to let the two of you stay in the house for the next two days, while we're in work, until His Nibs has a chance to complete repairs on Saturday.  We've never left you in the house before.  But I was sick last week, I can't take holidays from work this week.
I know that there will be weeing, and I’m prepared for that, to some extent.  It’s not ideal, but you have to be kept safe, the pair of you.

But I’m begging you.  Please try to keep indoor pooing to an absolute minimum.  And for God’s sake don’t eat the furniture.  Or knock over the television.  Don’t get fed up in the house and start fighting.  Don’t wreck anything.  Just be good and nice and well behaved.  We already have to buy new fencing, we don’t have the money for any further repairs.

It’s great to have you both home.