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12 April 2016

Scruffy

This story is written by June Courtney

My mother longed for a Poodle dog and nothing would satisfy her other than the real thing. Then she saw an advertisement in the local paper for a kind person to mind a Poodle while its owner went on a round the world trip. She quickly answered the ad and was overjoyed when a beautiful limo pulled up outside our house the next day and delivered a gorgeous apricot poodle, with strict instructions on how to care for the precious cargo.

Joey was everything my mother had dreamed about and he adored our home and my mother immediately.

Of course, the holiday went all too quickly and very soon there was the limo outside our house waiting for Joey to be transported back to his own house and away from the doting lady who had spoiled him for several months.

Mum was devastated and could do nothing else but cry for her poodle Joey. By the end of the afternoon she was inconsolable and decided she would visit the local dog’s home to see if they had any dogs who were looking for a new home.

I arrived home from work about the same time as my mum and dad, and was so surprised to see an animal which I suppose did look like some kind of dog, but not anything like a poodle.

Mum immediately introduced him to the family by the name of Scruffy. Nothing else would do and we all agreed on that.

That night, my mum decided to call in at the local fish and chip shop and pick up a meal ready cooked for our tea.

She placed the parcel of fish and chips on the dining room table and we all set to work to serve up the meal on the plates with the cutlery. Before we could stop Scruffy, he made a bound for the table and landed fair and square in the middle of the open parcel and started to gobble our meal. The way the food went down, we knew it had been many days since his last meal.

We could not begrudge him for the food of course, and made do with baked beans on toast for our tea. He must have thoroughly enjoyed the feast as there was not on chip left on the paper when he had finished. He didn’t even stop to ask for salt or vinegar.

My mother then told us the vet had given her some pills to feed Scruffy after his tea. He had given strict instructions of how to give the pills to his hungry dog. Remembering the vets words, my mother set the dog on the floor and relayed to me how to hold him and administer the pills.

When given the pills, Scruffy glared at her through both eyes and breathed fish and chips breath into her face. This was quite uncessary as my mother knew full well what he had been eating for tea a few minutes before. Thinking he had swallowed the pills, she let go of his head. We heard a ‘Phfftt’ and Scruffy spat out the offending pill and looked at my mother as if to ask if that was the idea she wanted.

My mother tried again and I was told to hold on tightly. The same result happened and the offending pill was again deposited on the rug. Mum was now in tears and turned to me and said, ‘What shall I do?’ Scruffy looked at her and apparently not wanting to see a woman cry, he looked at the pill on the rug, licked it up and swallowed it with one gulp.

From then on, pills were given on the palm of the hand whenever necessary and Scruffy always obliged. I am sure he thought it easier that way.

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