So, there I was on Thursday evening, vegging out on the sofa watching a film. And all of a sudden, there’s a commotion outside, with barking and snarling and so on. My Xandermog was out, so I opened the door…. to find him being attacked by a bloody great dog. Some sort of pitbull terrior, … Continue reading “So, there I was on”
So, there I was on Thursday evening, vegging out on the sofa watching a film. And all of a sudden, there’s a commotion outside, with barking and snarling and so on. My Xandermog was out, so I opened the door…. to find him being attacked by a bloody great dog. Some sort of pitbull terrior, I think. The owner of the dog and his friends was shouting and yelling, the dog was taking no notice, and poor Xander was trying to get the hell out of there. Only, every fence he jumped between the front gardens (they aren’t high), he was followed over by the dog. It wasn’t pretty. Eventually, they managed to get a hold of the dog – I tried to get Xander, but he bolted through next door’s cat flap. I assume the reason he didn’t run in my front door was cos the dog could have followed him in there.
Anyway, since this was at about 10:45, the bloke next door had gone to bed, but the noise obviously woke him up, cos the lights went back on. I knocked on the door and explained, and when I went in we found my poor moggy cowering under the table. I took him home and checked him over… at first I thought it was just his poor little feet that were all torn and bleeding (and I was hoping some of the blood belonged to the dog). But no, it turns out he also had a nasty big stomach wound. :-( Luckily, it was on the more fatty part of his tummy and wasn’t bleeding too much, so when I called the vet, she said it would be OK to leave him til morning to bring him in.
I had to leave him at the vet’s, of course, while he was stiched up and checked for internal damage, etc. He was lucky – nothing vital had been damaged, so now he’s home with tubes hanging out of either end of the three inch stitched wound (to drain it of any icky stuff), and one of those plastic cone head-collars to stop him pulling the tubs / stitches out. I’m actually pretty glad I hadn’t been able to see how nasty the wound really was before, because I would have completely freaked out! The head collar thing actually seems to be bothering Xander more than anything – he kept getting stuck, and crashing into things, which scared him. Last night, he was actually walking backwards for a while, so that he didn’t whack his head any more. Well, it worked! He’s getting used to it now, though, which is good.
Now, it’s just a matter of looking after him, and also of finding out if I have any chance of getting reimbursed by the owner of the dog. See, one of my neighbours apparantly saw it happen, and the owner actually let go of the dog knowing the cat was there. He probably assumed the cat would just bolt over the nearest high wall. Only my Xandermog can’t do that. Yeah, so. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t any malicious intent – it was just one of those stupid things. He’d been out for a few drinks with his mates – one of whom is a neighbour of mine – so I’m guessing it wasn’t exactly thought through clearly. I’ve spoken to one of the neighbours (the brother of the one who’s friends with the dog owner), and they’re going to give me the dog owner’s info. He also told me that he and his brother don’t like the dog anyway, and have now banned their friend from bringing it round here again. Which is quite a relief, cos I do want my mog to be able to go out again when he’s better! And fingers crossed, the dog owner will be OK with at least chipping in towards the vet bill, cos it wasn’t cheap.
And now for something completely different: this week’s Sexy Saturday question:
Are hickies ok or a no-no for you? If you answer a no-no, why?
Hmm. That actually reminds me that I used to translate “hickies” to mean spots. Guess I was confusing it with “hives”. We don’t use either of those – another US->UK confusion. LOL. But anyway, the question. Um. They don’t particularly appeal, and the idea of having a whacking great lovebite on your neck always seemed to be the ultimate horror when I was at school. *g* But I guess it all depends on the circumstances, and the placement, when it comes down to it. ;-)