On my hike down memory lane, I stumbled across this gem……….


Some people in this world have an almost mystical affinity with animals. They love our four-footed friends profoundly and unconditionally, preferring to spend time with furry friends rather than bitchier humans.

Laura was one of these folk. She frequently came home with stray animals she had’ found’.

One day she rocked up with the tiniest puppy I had ever seen. It was about the size of a small woman’s first, with minute legs about an inch long.

” Look what followed me home,” she said.

Yeah, right! Those minuscule legs kept up with her great strides. She did not fool me.

It was so cute though, quite adorable. I fell in love with her immediately.

When the truth finally emerged it appeared Laura had been visiting a friend of hers who was a breeder of Affenpinscher dogs. They look like black Maltese. The breeder was going to drown her. As she was the runt of the litter, but Laura was having none of that, and sneakily slipped the pup into her pocket while he wasn’t looking.

Then, bidding him a hurried farewell, she took off with her tiny rescue.

We called the pup Flundle, which came from my excited reaction to first seeing her,

” Ah Laura, what a gorgeous flundle of buff”,

instead of’ bundle of fluff’, because that was all she was when I first laid eyes on her.

Flundle was a great little dog with character and energy. Her vitality and Joie de vivre was boundless. She used to run around the house or garden in sudden frenetic bursts of energy, flying into the house, running around the furniture, then diving out the door again. It was exhausting just watching her, but very entertaining. I suspect she was playing to the crowd because the more we laughed, the higher her excitement.

One day though tragedy struck. Laura had nipped next door and hadn’t noticed Flundle following her. A car came speeding around the corner and hit the little dog, sending her tiny body flying through the air. We rushed her to the vet, but he took one look at our small, broken dog, and said it was over for her. It would be best to put her down.

Laura, as expected, was devastated. She was so over-wrought, the vet said as Flundle was in no pain with a broken spine, we could take her home to love her a little bit but bring her back the next day for euthanasia.
Having been assured she was not in any pain, there was no way we were going to put Flundle-flops down.

We would work her legs, as though she were walking so that her muscles did not atrophy. Then drain her bladder by running finger and thumb down her belly, sort of massaging her bladder.

Flundle-flops responded to our constant care with her usual energy and high spirited playfulness, galloping around the house and garden, with her front legs scrabbling at full speed. The deadweight of her hind legs swinging around uselessly behind her. My dad began designing a little wheelchair trolley to build for her.

Then one day, I was grooming her, and my heart almost stopped beating. The vet had said there was no hope that she would ever walk again with a broken spine. Therefore, she was incapable of any movement of her lower back.

Now, I have a suspicion, that had anyone of we humans received this news, that would have been that. We would have never walked again. Dogs, however, are not as smart as us. They haven’t a clue about vertebrae and spinal cords, and suchlike. They just want to live and be happy.

When I saw that tiny twitch of her tail l stopped breathing, and just sat there, holding her silently. Was it possible? Had I noticed that? Could the vet possibly be wrong, after all?

We continued our version of physical therapy, along with intense prayers for God’s help. To our joy, our little dog began a long, slow recovery. The vet said it was a miracle, and he had never seen any animal recover so well from such a severe spinal injury.

Ha! He did not know Flundle.

When we finally took her back to the vet to show him her complete physical mobility, he was very impressed. He could not believe it. He called it miraculous and applauded us for our determination in healing her. He did warn us, however, that even though she had regained full use of her legs, she would never have puppies.

Nevah! Say never!

One day she came flying into the house
with, what can only be described as

‘ Wow! Guess what I’ve just done?’ expression.

Followed by…

‘ And you know what? It was fun!’

We did not know at the time she was advising us of a romantic interlude with some vagabond lover.

A few weeks later, she proved the vet wrong on the second point.

The puppies were possibly the greatest adverts for sterilisation that were ever born. They were the ugliest little critters I ever saw.
One had a rosette of spiky fur around his nose.

Flundle had done her best. Oh dear, she had tried, but, Nah, her pups were not beautiful.

No, they were not going to win any shows, but they were adorable.

There was one more miracle this noble little warrior of ours performed, but that’s a tale for another day.


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