Wrong Persuasions

I am glad to be able to broadcast that my Kennel Cough has finally gone. And no one is more relieved than Mistress, who has never been much of a nurse.

“Come on, Tommy,” she said to me the following week, by way of celebration. “We’re off to the country.”

Mistress meant it. She was already packing a canvas bag with goodies. We were out of that house and into the car faster than I can wag my tail. I lay clamped in a seat belt at the back and closed my eyes. When I woke up, we were in the middle of the country.

We were also in the middle of hundreds of trees. There were tall waving branches way up above me and on the high ground, more short prickly ones. I trotted across old tracks of mud. Then the ground became sandy and soft. It was hard to see ahead, so I followed Mistress with my nose almost to her heel. What a pity, I thought, that she had to talk on her mobile everywhere we went. She missed what was going on and any moment now, we would be in the pitch black.

We were not alone for long. There were dogs around. I could hear them. Two basset hounds came out of the woods heading in our direction.

”Alright, baby face?” said the fattest, as he passed us with his owner.

I followed his tail, but it was a murky area.

“Enough of that baby face,” I growled. “Your stomach’s hitting the earth, you’ve got so much rubbish in it.”

The basset’s ears flapped in annoyance. His brother leered towards me.

“Who’s this piece of low life?” he asked.

I showed my teeth.

“You’re a pair of stinking sausages,” I said.

The two bassets drew parallel with me and barged at each side of my ribcage.

I gave a shudder. My paws were giving way under me. I was in big trouble and I needed provisions.

Was there a rescue dog somewhere close ...?