feral child

Feral Child

The Dog House Diaries :

Feral Child :

This morning I came down to find Jon and Barkley having a cuddle on the sofa.  He gets so many more privileges than our first shepherd did at that age.  Barkley that is, not Jon.  Jon’s always been allowed on the sofa.  

Poor old Chilli, our first GSD, was never allowed up on our sofa, whereas now we’re actually encouraging it with Barkley.  It’s probably not a good thing to be honest as I expect we’ll end up with a spoiled brat, but it has to be said, I do love a doggy cuddle.  

I guess its like parents (of children) isn’t it?  The first child is always much better behaved (so Im told), probably because as new parents you want to do everything right.  Then the second child comes along and you get a bit blasé.  Give in to them with tv time, eating sweets, and then before you know it, they’re feral and living in the shed.  

Im kidding, obviously.  

Anyway, Im guessing our first shepherd will be the one that was the best behaved, while this little monkey is probably going to run circles around us like a feral child. 

I digress. 

feral child

While I was getting ready to go to work on this particular morning Barkley got the hiccups.  I wasn’t overly worried, as this has been a pretty frequent thing, and by all accounts, puppies are prone to it. 

However, 20 minutes later as I was getting dressed, his little chest was still reverberating.  

“Google if it’s dangerous” says Jon.  I google it with one arm inside my coat, and shouted out the answer.  ‘Only if it lasts 30 mins or more’ I tell him.  

“Google if you need to take him to the vets then” says Jon.   

“Aaaaargh, I have to go.  You do have access to Google right?” 

I hated leaving the poor little thing hiccuping away and staring at me with baleful eyes from the sanctity of the sofa, but I had to get to work and he was in safe hands.  

“Promise to ring me and let me know if he’s ok.”  I called out to Jon as I ran down the path.  

I got into my car, in a mad rush as usual.  Jon was more than capable of looking after him, I told myself. 

But what if he wasn’t ok? 

What if he started throwing up and didn’t stop?

What if it was life threatening?

What if I never saw him again?

What if???????

I left it all of about 30 seconds before I was on the phone to Jon asking him if Barkley was ok, and that I’d turn the car round right now and come back to be with my poor little pup and nurse him back to health.  

“Oh” says Jon “He’s absolutely fine.  The hiccups stopped pretty much as soon as you headed off.”  

“Oh thank God.”  I breathed a massive sigh of relief, and made a mental note to spoil him even more when I got home.  

Feral child here we come. 

Sherry x

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