21 August 2009

Where do old rickety dogs go to die...?

Quietly behind my reversing car, apparently...

I'm presuming that the educated and world-savvy readers of my blog (both of them) have heard of elephant graveyards and whale-resting places and all that fancy speculation before. Well, for old rickety dogs I guess it's the parking lots and driveways of the world that suffice for them.

Basically, yesterday I reversed into my in-laws' old labrador - Taffy. He wasn't there when I got into my car and I suspect he wanted to buy an opportunity of euthanasia and ran (he's been storing up his energy for months for this last break) behind the Palio to take the hit. All I knew was, I felt some resistance, like I was driving over a log. I paused. Went backwards again. Resistance. Paused. Drove forward. Looked around and didn't see anything (and considered it may have been Taffy, but he must have put on his cloak of "make-me-invisible-momentarily-so-I-can-buy-it-now" because I couldn't see him, so I went back again with some caution. Resistance. A log? Okay, just drive over it. Start to reverse again (no more than before though). Yelp! Stop. Go forward. Get out. See a rickety old dog sitting there pooh'ing himself. Get him up and he hobbles away, wetting the floor. He was okay, but shaken up, poor thing.

Sigh. Be careful. I suspect either dogs like to make an exit, or my in-laws tried to incriminate me by craftfully placing Taffy there while I was doing my seven-point safety check.

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