TheBanyanTree: The Queen Gives Us A Scare

[Robin Tennant-Wood]

Poor Honey. How embarrassing for her. I really enjoy how one story on this
list leads to others - I've been trying to imagine what possible (discreet)
sign language might be employed for "my right foot is attached to my left
butt cheek" but I keep falling off my chair laughing.

Our dear old Queen, the late cat, Alberta, used to get her tongue velcroed
to her collar when she washed herself and we'd be alerted by a sort of
anguished squawking that was half 'meoooowwww' and half 'aaccckkkkkkk', and
we'd have to go and peel her tongue off. We eventually solved the problem
by just removing the collar. She hated it anyway.



On 5 February 2012 11:25, <NancyIee at aol.com> wrote:

>
>
> I  love these stories, and have one little one of my own.  We have horses,
> and  a barn, and when you have horses and a barn, you have horse feed and
> rats. So,  we have horses, and a barn, and a few cats, who balance it all
> out.
> On chilly  nights, the cats found that sleeping on a horse was the thing to
> do.  The  horses never seemed to mind, so it was not unusual to see the
> horses at the  gate, with a cat or two on their broad backs.
>
> Usually the cats jumped off when I put cat food  in a pan in the barn, and
> the horses ate their own breakfasts as the cats  ate theirs.  On morning,
> the calico was on Buttercup's broad back.  It  must have been super chilly,
> for the cat did not leap off and join the cat  breakfast bar. Buttercup and
> the other horses ate their breakfasts, and by ten,  were wandering far out
> in
> the pasture to graze. Odd, but calico cat was still  aboard Buttercup.
>
> Well, you guessed it. When the horses came in  later for their evening
> meal, calico was still riding Buttercup. It seemed her  claws had gotten
> snarled
> in Buttercup's long mane. She rode that horse all day,  and was glad to be
> finally free and able to join her barnmates for their  dinner.
>
> It didn't cure her, though.  The next  morning, she was again warming
> herself on Buttercup's broad back.  I expect  in years to come, she will
> one day
> ride her horse off into the  sunset.
>
>
>
> This  reminds me of the Christmas party at my bosses house many years ago.
> I was  all dressed up - panty hose and everything.  I sat down gracefully
> on  the couch with one leg curled under me.  When I went to stand up,  I
> realized that my ankle bracelet had snagged on my hose.  I was trying  to
> discretely signal Ed that there was a problem but there is no  universal
> sign language for "My left foot seems to be attached to my right  butt
> cheek!"
>
> I'm glad Honey is ok.  Thanks for sharing the story  with us!
>
> On Sat, Feb 4, 2012 at 11:12 AM, Monique Colver
> <monique.colver at gmail.com>wrote:
>
> > My oldest dog, Honey, is 14  or so. She's aged very gracefully, much
> better
> > than I have, and at the  last vet visit was declared in fabulous health
> for
> > a dog her age. Still,  knowing she's 14, we're on the lookout for any
> signs
> > that things may be  going awry.
> >
> > Going awry happens to all of us eventually, doesn't  it?
> >
> > Late last night we were hanging out on the couch, as we tend  to do late
> at
> > night when we're considering going to bed but not yet up  to making the
> long
> > trek up the stairs. Ash was probably laying next to  me with his head in
> > someone's lap, or close to it, probably me, since he  finds me very
> > comforting. We saw Honey get up from the carpet and walk  towards the
> > kitchen, behind us. She does this sort of thing all the  time. "Should I
> lay
> > here? Should I lie there?" She still has trouble  with lay and lie, not
> > knowing which is the appropriate word. It's okay  -- she's a dog and not
> > expected to have perfect grammar.
> >
> >  We heard her lay down, behind us, on the floor, which she seems to like
> >  because it's cool, and then we heard scrambling and thrashing.
> >
> >  Scrambling and thrashing are not sounds we're used to, though
> occasionally
> > she slips on the hardwood floor and then tries to cover it  up by acting
> as
> > if she meant to do it all along. Andrew looked over the  couch and I
> said,
> > "What's going on over there?" I can't see back there  because my head
> > doesn't do 180 degree turns. I blame my parents for not  producing
> something
> > more functional when they made me.
> >
> >  "I don't know," he said, "But . . . "
> >
> > And then he jumped up and  ran to her. "There's something wrong!"
> >
> > I ran to her also, as did  Ash, who regards Honey with all the reverence
> due
> > a supreme  being.
> >
> > Her head was at an awkward angle, twisted so that her  left eye appeared
> to
> > be bulging because of the angle of her neck, and  she looked desperate
> and
> > unhappy and confused. We knelt by her and tried  to move her head, but it
> > wouldn't move, and her desperation didn't seem  to be dissipating,
> despite
> > the fact the three of us were standing over  her like avenging angels. Of
> > course, it wasn't avenging angels she  needed, it was help of some sort,
> if
> > only us stupid humans could figure  it out.
> >
> > "We need to take her to the vet," I said, and Andrew  went looking for
> the
> > number to the emergency vet.
> >
> > We  recently used the emergency vet when Ash consumed chocolate chocolate
> >  cake to celebrate my birthday, so we know which one to go to.
> >
> > As  Andrew looked up the info I stayed with Honey, and I petted her and
> told
> >  her everything was going to be okay. Then I looked at her as a whole,
> >  instead of focusing on her head and her bulging panicked eyes. "Hey," I
> >  said to the poor thing, "Where's your other leg?" I could see one back
> leg
> > on the side she was laying on, it was right there where it was  supposed
> to
> > be, on the floor, but the other one, where was it? The one  leg was
> there,
> > but there should have been two legs. When last I saw her  she had two
> back
> > legs, not just one.
> >
> > Did I mention that  this year Honey has grown a fabulously healthy thick
> > long coat? It's  gold and soft and fabulous, and things can get lost in
> >  there.
> >
> > Like legs.
> >
> > I found her other back leg at  her neck. She'd broken a toenail on that
> > foot, and when she'd been  scratching herself up at her neck, or ears,
> the
> > toe had caught in some  of that luxurious fur and was stuck there. My dog
> > was not having a  seizure, or an attack of some sort, and she wasn't
> > anywhere close to  being terminal. She just had her toe stuck to her fur,
> > which was why her  head was twisted to the side with the toe attached to
> it.
> >
> > Oh  sure, it's funny now.
> >
> > I yelled out that she was fine, that I'd  found the problem and what I
> > really needed was a pair of scissors,  because that fur was not going to
> be
> > dislodged easily. Andrew couldn't  find the scissors, and as he ran
> around
> > looking for them I tried to  separate her toe from the fur that was quite
> > attached to it. Just as he  gave up on the scissors and brought me a
> knife I
> > separated the toe, with  the hair coming loose in a big clump, and Honey
> was
> >  free.
> >
> > She was shaking quite a bit by then, no doubt more alarmed  by my panic
> than
> > by the fact that her toe was stuck to her neck, so I  sat down with her
> in
> > the living room and we calmed each other down while  I cut off the
> offending
> > toenail. I tried another toenail as well, but  she wasn't ready to have
> > anything else done, so I made an appointment  with her to do some more
> > grooming on both toes and fur today. If she  cancels on me she has to pay
> a
> > cancellation fee.
> >
> > She's  fine, and she says the only problem is that she would like to have
> >  servants who are a bit quicker with a diagnosis. I told her too bad,
> she's
> > stuck with us.
> >
> > M
> >
>
>
>
> --
> You  are a fine person, Mr Baggins, and I am very fond of you;
> but  you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all!”
>
> “Thank  goodness!” said Bilbo laughing
>