Following the loss of Bing we have watched Papa Wallace like a hawk, checking he doesn’t lose appetites and start mooching sadly around the house, given extra cuddles (and extra treats) left Bings Blankets and belongings around unwashed and still Bing scented and tended to his every whim.
The gang has equally rallied around him, if he isn’t snuggling in with us he is usually sleeping amongst a dog pile with Maggie and Ginny (usually at the bottom of this pile , hogging all the heat which is always Willie free because let’s face it Willie is a grump.)
So imagine our horror (four paws and two legs) a few nights ago when Wallace suddenly became distressed and began pacing and howling – very obviously in pain. We walked him around the garden, did full body check for any hurties, watched his breathing and cradled him in our arms to sing softly to him, resigned to the fact that this may be his time (while frantically trying to get through to the vet.)
Thankfully, we were saved from the humiliation of the vet answering our distress call and us sounding like complete twerps because as quickly as he had become distressed and unwell he miraculous recovered and carried on with his evening happily.
But not before he let off a rip roaring fart that would put hairs on your chest and put the bog of stench from the labyrinth film to shame – he had trapped wind – quickly we slammed the phone down on the vet before they could answer or worse hear Wallace’s rip, roaring fart…