Soc’s World: When The Bite Doesn’t Stand A Chance Against The Bark

By on March 27, 2013

There are some dogs that attract more bad luck than others and I can’t help thinking that I’m one of them. A few weeks ago when I was dropped off at the house of my groomer “Uncle” Tony, I was sexually harassed by Slack Alice and Shady Sadie, two rather unpleasant females. I’d rather not go into the details of what happened (you can read about it in my last column), but I assumed that an incident like that would never be repeated again. I was wrong! Okay so this time I wasn’t sexually harassed but I was physically attacked, which is just as bad.

It started when Mrs. Woman (who thinks she’s in charge), took me to “Uncle” Tony’s for a shampoo and set. Since it would only take him an hour and a half to sort me out she decided to wait.

“Good” I thought to myself “You get on with your knitting while Tony and I have a catch up.”

As usual the best laid plans were scuppered before they even got off the runway and Timmy the Pug was to blame. Don’t be fooled by the twee sounding name and squashed Bee Gee face. Timmy may be small enough to slip into a handbag, but he’s a mean spirited thug with a severe Napoleon complex. I know what I’m talking about because the minute I stepped through the door he started growling at me and then before I knew it he had his teeth embedded in my nose.

“Gracious me” Uncle Tony said when he heard all the snarling “What on earth’s going on?”

Mrs. Woman looked around in time to see me baring my fangs at Asbo Boy, who had stood back a couple of paces to eyeball me.

“Pinkalinka, don’t be so naughty! Why are you growling at Timmy like that? The poor thing’s scared.”

“You’re having a laugh aren’t you?” I thought “He’s the one who started it. Not me. I’m the victim!”

The next thing I knew she was cradling Timmy in her arms and feeding him from my stash of cheese and garlic biscuits she had brought with her.

“There, there” she whispered “Pinkalinka didn’t mean it. He’s just a big silly billy.”

Timmy gave her a pitiful yelp and burrowed his face into her chest, after shooting me a sly, sideways glance. In that one moment I knew how it felt to be abandoned and unloved.

“Uh oh, where did that come from?” “Uncle” Tony checked the tips of his fingers, which were splashed with small droplets of blood.

“Socrates is bleeding” he said. Mrs. Woman put Asbo Boy on a couch and came over towards me.

“Oh gosh, where has he been hurt?”

“Uncle” Tony ran his fingers through my body and then cupped my face in his hands. His eyes suddenly lit up excitedly, as if he had just cracked the solution to a puzzle.

“It’s his nose. Maybe Timmy scratched it. It doesn’t look serious so there’s no need to take him to the vet.”

“How can you say it doesn’t look serious?” I thought “That little git wounded me. This is GBH. He should be prosecuted for that!”

Needless to say Mrs. Woman wasn’t at all sympathetic and neither was “The Boss” (who thinks he knows everything). He thought it was embarrassing that I could be attacked by a dog that was no bigger than one of my toys.

“Socrates, you’re hopeless” he whinged “What’s the point of being a German Shepherd if you’re not even macho?”

“Darling he’s part German shepherd and part Pointer” Mrs. Woman piped up in my defence “For goodness sake get it right! And he’s a dog not a body builder!”

The only person who understood my outrage was Michaele (Mrs. Woman’s personal assistant), who called a firm of No Win No Fee solicitors to find out whether assault charges could be filed against Asbo Boy’s owners. From the rapid annulment of the conversation, I suspect they laughed him off the phone.

“Huh, if this was America we could sue for millions” he grumbled “I’d do them for emotional distress, scarring, nasal reconstruction…I’d even get myself a tummy tuck with the change. Never mind Soc. That dog’s on borrowed time. Trust me!”

I wasn’t sure what Michaele meant by that but I don’t think I’ll be seeing Timmy the Pug for a while. In the meantime I’ve decided that the best thing I can do after such a shocking ordeal is to take it easy. My nose is starting to heal (although it’s speckled with little pink patches), my pride is still a bit frayed around the edges, but at least I’ll live! As for Mrs. Woman and The Boss, well I won’t be looking to those two for tea and sympathy in the future!

δεν στεναχωριέται για τον εαυτό μου
(Not feeling sorry myself)

Soc

About The Author

Juliette Foster is a BBC World reporter and author. To find out more about Friends of Animals, visit online at www.friendsofanimals-nf.com

Photo Credit:ROB PAUL STUDIOS

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