In dog house over lingerie

ONE afternoon, between consultations, I watched from the consulting room window as a gorgeous Bentley arrived.

A beautiful lady, impeccably dressed and manicured, emerged from the passenger seat clutching a Louis Vuitton handbag. A suited gentleman, who I took to be her husband, followed.

He was carrying a West Highland terrier, seemingly in some distress.

The poor dog was vomiting and clearly trying to bring something up, so I asked if he might have swallowed anything. The couple shrugged. I examined the terrier and felt it best to give emetic apomorphine to try to make him vomit everything up before doing anything more invasive. We all went out on to a patch of grass in front of the practice to let him sniff around for a bit and hopefully bring up whatever was causing him to retch.

We hadn’t long to wait. Heave, heave, heave and then it came, blurgh... The dog regurgitated what looked like a long red string. I knelt down and, with a gloved hand, picked up the offending item, which was a red suspender belt.

As I held it aloft, the blood drained from the man’s face. The lady looked at him and with absolute vitriolic condemnation said: “That’s not mine!” She filed for divorce shortly afterwards – and took the dog with her.

The lady looked at him and with vitriolic condemnation said: ‘That’s not mine!’

NOEL

ON HUBBY RUMBLED AFTER DOG SICKED UP SUSPENDER BELT