Pol­ly­ism of the week

Woman’s Day (NZ) - - Advice -

No-one warned me that tak­ing a dog to the vet is more ex­pen­sive than heart surgery. Well, that may be stretch­ing the truth, but those de­li­cious lit­tle crea­tures can cost an arm, a leg and a new car.

My lit­tle Scrum­bles is a stocky and chunky rough­coat Jack Rus­sell. He’s an absolute de­light, but he’s a bit bung. You know how there’s al­ways a dog in ev­ery lit­ter that’s a bit bung? Well, that’s my Scrum­bles. I don’t want to em­bar­rass him, but he has some is­sues.

Firstly, one of his man grapes hasn’t de­scended, which ap­par­ently is not good at all. He’ll have to be neutered rather soon, to my part­ner’s hor­ror.

“Can’t we let him be a man just a wee bit longer?” he pleaded.

Scrum­bles also runs on three legs most of the time and he’s de­vel­oped what sounds like a smoker’s cough. Yes, my dog is ei­ther a se­cret cig­a­rette ban­dit or he has asthma. He’s been cough­ing like an old man who’s smoked roll-your-owns for 50 years, and we’ve had him back and forth to the vet so many times.

I had no idea drop­ping him off would be so up­set­ting. I was trau­ma­tised watch­ing him be­ing car­ried in for X-rays, with those big brown eyes all needy and cute.

I waited all day to get the call to come and get him. I waited and waited and waited. And as I waited, I be­came more con­vinced he had some rare ter­rier dis­ease that af­fects their tes­ti­cles, lungs and run­ning style. I waited and then the call fi­nally came.

“You can come pick up Scrum­bles now!” a chirpy nurse said.

“What’s the di­ag­no­sis?” I asked, most con­cerned.

“Well,” she said, “he’s the cutest dog ever and we all want to take him home!”

“Yes, that’s awe­some,” I replied. “But what’s wrong with him?”

The nurse asked me to wait while she put me through to the vet. “I think Scrum­bles is al­ler­gic to some­thing in your house,” the an­i­mal doc­tor de­clared.

Oh, no! Not only does my pup have a faulty ball, a three-legged run and a hack­ing cough, but he’s al­ler­gic to cats too? “Is it cats?” I asked. “No, it’s more likely to be a fra­grance,” the vet replied. “Is it a re­cent is­sue?”

Then it struck me. The same time that Scrum­bles started cough­ing was the same time I re­dis­cov­ered my bot­tle of Chanel in the bath­room cab­i­net.

Oh, no! Surely not a dog al­ler­gic to Chanel No. 5? How could this be?

It’s ei­ther the Chanel No. 5 or my gor­geous fra­grant can­dles from Peter Alexan­der – and both sce­nar­ios are ab­so­lutely hor­ri­fy­ing.

Poor old Scrum­bles. There is al­ways a bung one in ev­ery lit­ter, but I love my adorable, fluffy, bung puppy – even if he’s al­ler­gic to Dior, Prada and Chanel.

I sup­pose it would be worse if he was a poo­dle!

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