Willies Luck Strikes Again…

We thought we would be clever this bank holiday Monday. We thought we would walk down to the shop nice and early. Grab a coffee and some breakfast and quickly buy our essentials of milk and such. A nice relaxed, fairly cheap morning…

We did not account for Willie and his notorious poor luck. Willie once again has become victim to pure bad luck. Which turned our relaxed and quite cheap wander to the shops into a rather stressed more costly affair.

You see on route to the shops (just round the corner from the shops actually) Willie began screaming and whimpering, while holding his bad leg up. We immediately went on panic mode; had he pulled his leg, hurt it, damaged it?

He has not long had his leg fixed and he is still recouperating. However, on closer inspection – if you can call it that – it was more like a world wrestling tournament, with Willie totally overdoing it on the panic and pain reactions.

Actually looking back it would of been quite funny if Willie hadn’t of been making an awful yelping sound, as Mr 3WD&P rolled around the grass trying to calm him to see what was up and Willie going around in circles, while trying to hide inside his jacket at the same time.

As it was it turned out that Willie had been victim to a wasp – right in the pad of his foot. Of course Mr 3WD&P terminated the nasty bugger asap -saving Willie’s life BUT this is when Willie’s performance really came into its own, for Willie loves an audience and an audience he had, as he limped and whimpered.

As he struggled to walk on his own, he was carried, straight to the first available seating area and Marks and Spencers was accosted for honey ham, piriton, Calpol and fresh mountain dew water (to wash his paw.) His adoring public adored him and sympathised with him. Daddy cuddled him and loved him and all was well with the world as I left my beautiful family sitting outside Costa with beverages and treats to recouperate as I bought the essentials as fast as I could (which also included a backpack to carry the wounded home.)

And carried he was. Although, I think Willie enjoyed it a little too much. Certainly when we got home he managed to lop out of the rucksack quite aptly and run across the living (on all four paws) for his treats, which was a bit suss as daddy massaged his aching shoulders but for now he is overcoming his trauma by ‘sleeping’ it off (with his club foot tucked tightly under him.)

Why, oh why is it always Willie?

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