Idlebones

A Rolf Harris Pet Vet Moment

I had to bury a little dog in my back garden last night. He was a small little golden haired furball with a tiny little face poking out of his fluffy mane, and I found him lying on the side of the road. He looked more like a girls furry boot lying there when I saw him from my window, but I went out to check when I thought I saw some movement. Four dark matchstick legs gave him away as a dog, and when I bent down to place my palm on his side, I could feel his ribcage rise and fall in small, almost imperceptable movements. He had obviously been clipped by a car and been left where he fell in the gutter by an uncaring, or unaware driver. I picked him up gently and carried him inside to lay him on a chair in front of the fire, and fetched him some water to see if he could drink. He licked at my palm and lapped up some of the water for a few minutes, and then passed away.
I called him “Copper”, as “Copperhead Road” was on the radio, and took him out to the back garden.
Poor little fella, as Rolf would say.