The Kriel Menagerie is legendary in our salubrious neighbourhood, mostly because we have such a divergent collection of motley mutts...(Well hardly motley, all bearing pedigrees, but they have motley habits like sleeping on beds, drooling while we are at the table etc. )
First of all there is the regal Victoria Jane, a brindle Great Dane the size of a Shetland Pony, looks ferocious but would run a mile if you said "Boo" to her.
Going one down in size, there is friendly lovable Phoebe who is a black and white spotted Pointer with wildly flapping ears, she loves to hunt birds so would be shot at dawn if the Gun Dog fraternity got hold of her. !!
Then even lower on the pecking order there is Baxter who is about as ornery a Jack Russell as nature invented, but who would die for me if the need arose.
Baxter has a problem with his identity, he feels he is superior in size to the Great Dane, so runs along the back of the settees just to dispell any rumours about his Height Marginalisation.
Then there is dear Little Shami, all two kgs of her, who is a golden haired Toy Pomeranian, a "he" who thinks he is a "she", who dances on her hind legs like a circus dog when she wants to be carried (Which is all the time !!)
However unfortunately dear Little Shami is not able to dance any more because the Two Horrid Nasties from across the road chewed her up last week.
The brood and I were pruning bushes on our verge one evening, quietly minding our own business when suddenly from around the corner came the Two Horrid Nasties from across the road, on leads held by the two domestic staff.
Taken by surprise, my Motley Bunch, who have all been to Etiquette Lessons and know not to enter into Neigbourhood brawls, took to their heels and fled back into the garage, like proper Young Ladies, all except Baxter of course, who ran off barking (until he noticed that the Cavalry wasn't behind him whereupon he too lost courage and turned tail and fled !!)
But Dear Little Shami was unable to see these monsters descending upon her by virtue of the fact that she cannot see over the bushes, so she was the object of their fearful and bloody lust.
And bloody it was too, the two dogs, which are of questionable parentage, both about Labrador size, descended on my Little Shami and tore her up in a flash.
Their staff being of the cowardly variety ran around screaming, not daring to pull their charges off for fear of being turned on themselves, and left me on my own, trying to physically pull the two of them off Shami, and open their vice like jaws which were wrapped around her tiny throat.
My sweet maid Mercy arrived mercifully with a bucket of water, but can you imagine her dilemma. Here is "Madam" wrestling with the Two Horrid Nasties, does she have the courage to throw this whole bucket of water over "Madam" who has her arms wrapped around the brown dogs jaws, trying to extract Little Shami 's throat from his mouth ?
She decided that it was worth it after all to get revenge for all those doggy footprints she has had to clean off the kitchen floor every day, and deposited the whole bucket of water on my head, which helped to loosen the dogs jaws.
By this time Shami was spurting blood from her mouth, her neck was hanging drunkenly, great flaps of flesh were hanging off her behind and horrible noises were emitting from her tiny throat.
We bundled her in a towel and shot off to the vet who was himself in a dilemma as to which one of us he should treat first - me or Little Shami.
Thank heaven for that dear and Glorious Physician Hugh , he and his wonderful staff undoubtedly saved the little Pom's life.
A punctured lung, a flayed chest, abdomen muscles split open like a split pea, extensive haemorrhaging and internal bleeding, multiple tears and lacerations, the little tiny thing was put on a drip and stabilised for a couple of days until she could be operated on to sew her up again into one whole piece.
(Mother resorted to tranquilisers which the Vet's staff administered, and then large quantities of wine, and had to be forcibly restrained by He Who Must be Obeyed from rushing off to emulate Mike Tyson once she had tracked down the Horrid Nasties.
However this Little Dog I am thrilled to be able to tell you, has pulled through so far, although she still has to have a major operation to have the torn chest muscles stitched together when she gets a little stronger.
She has had a haircut (or rather very close shave in more ways than one), which makes her look like a cross between a purple and white rat and a chihuahua, she is a very sad little dog, cannot walk too far at the moment, but I will get the pram out tomorrow and take her for a walk with her sisters and brother just like we did before the visit from The Horrid Nasties.