Fur ball

The silence of the countryside was broken by the painful howl of my dog Felix as he burst quickly through the underbrush. I could see a contorted look on his jowly face as he whimpered and danced around in circles in distress at my side. I talk to him in my voice reserved for babies and fur balls; a sweet low cadence that soothes and comforts.

The local hedgehog has gotten his revenge today with fifty or so sharp needle pointed spurs firmly embedded in Felix’s soft and smooth young face. Only a puppy he has yet to learn that not all other animals want to play with him. A harsh lesson and one that will hopefully be embedded in his memory bank.

We walk home and with great care I give him a squirt of junior Tylenol as he squirms and tries to escape my enfolding arms. Using needle nose pliers I gently twist and pull each spur out a procedure that seems to go on endlessly. We are both physically exhausted when it’s over, it’s been a fight of wills. “A bacon treat would go really well now don’t you think?” Felix jumps up with alacrity and with his unquestioning loving eyes he gazes at me in adoration. My dog loves me and I love my dog.

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