Waffle has fleas, while I merely flee

I’ m in deep trouble over Waffle. I had gone off to northern France to trace my grandfather’s footsteps around Ypres in 1914- 15 ( we have his diaries) and was allowed to leave Waffle with my daughter. We have a rather satisfactory arrangement if I am going south whereby I hand Waffle over with her whistle, lead and travelling basket ( actually a sort of igloo for cats from Aldi) on the platform at Waverley. And off they scamper together.

Waffle’s stay was, however, complicated by the fact that the daughter has acquired her own working cocker puppy since I have been particularly dilatory about breeding from Waffle.

The truth is that looking after puppies for two months means never being able to get away even for a night. There are those who say: just think of the money; £ 800 a pop for a good cocker pup which is fine if they have six.

But what if they have three and you keep one and someone else in the family wants one at mates’ rates?

So the daughter waltzed off in a huff and got herself a stunningly well bred ( for better or for worse) puppy for virtually nothing, whose father may or may not have been the Duke of Buccleuch. Don’t ask. Buccleuch came into it somewhere. Anyway she’s called Aggie although that may be Aggy with a “y” to rhyme with waggy.

So Waffle had to contend with nine- week- old Aggy, which by all accounts she did with rather an ill grace and the occasional snarl and snap. But that’s dogs for you.

Meanwhile, scarcely had I sunk the first Pernod of the day in the shadow of the Cloth Hall in Ypres when a furious cross Channel text arrived to say that not only did Waffle have worms, she had fleas too and Aggy was now being rushed to the vet and so was George the rabbit. And I was going to have to pay the vet’s bills.

All this I found rather bewildering. Waffle seemed totally flea- less to me and I am an inveterate poop prodder ( with my stick) for any sign of worms on our daily walk. Anyway aren’t fleas and worms what dogs do, to some extent? So I was rather tart in my reply that it was almost certainly George the rabbit who had given everyone fleas and quite possibly worms, if a rabbit can give a dog worms.

Or just put it down to climate change, like everything else. Mark my words, you can see it coming any minute now: species- hopping fleas the size of vampire bats and worms with the girth of a Cumberland sausage. In the end I coughed up the £ 80 for purging two dogs and a rabbit. Anything for peace. n