What About Me?
September was a mense horribilis, a horrible month.
It seemed to start like any other month but then it took a nose-dive.
I sensed a certain tension in the air and a few earnest discussions but as long as I got my walks and meals on time I didn’t think too much about it.
There was the usual injustice of Raffy getting larger portions at meal times and despite my watching him closely and threatening him with all sorts of dire punishments he managed to finish his food without leaving me as much as a tiny biscuit more times than I care to remember. I have failed with that boy. He is not as well trained as I believed.
We even had some ducks come into the garden to play which gave me a splendid opportunity to get my heart rate up and have a fun chase. The ducks love it or they wouldn’t come back for another game would they?
It was about half way through the month that things began to go wrong. A couple of times Mum noticed I was a bit wet in the morning. She became concerned about my allergies and assumed I was licking myself. Zero for observation Mum. Anyone would think you had something else on your mind but:
What about Me? I’m the most important Princess in this house.
I was off colour and uncomfortable BUT Mum didn’t really notice.
She was neglectful and cruel.
She was occupied with other things but she should know that I always come first. I have obviously failed with my training of her too.
When she should have had all of her focus on me what happened? Only Dad needing surgery. Talk about oneupmanship.
Can you believe it?
I had a need and where was Mum? At the hospital with Dad. All because of a little surgery on his heart, some problem he inherited from his father that had to be fixed. Something about a valve.
What about my inherited problems? What about me?
I was outraged. He was in a fine hospital with doctors and nurses fussing over him and I was left with Raffy not knowing when my next meal would be.
Sometimes we spent the time like this:
And sometimes I spent my time more like this:
Okay, so we had our walk every morning before Mum left and okay we never did actually miss a meal but the point is that we could have.
We did go to Grandma’s twice which was great because she allows us on the sofa. Even Raffy is allowed up and he is well known as a destroyer of sofas. Plus she gives me lots of treats. She understands a little better what a Princess needs.
The only fly in the ointment there was Jazz who has been acting rather ‘fresh’ with me lately. At one point Grandma came into the room to find me flying from sofa to sofa (including her velvet one) to try and escape his attentions which I can tell you were strictly dishonourable. That also got my heart rate up!
Someone of my age and status should not have been exposed to such behaviour. I am Princess Zena. Where is the respect? I have failed in training Jazz too. I should have nipped that behaviour in the bud at once, literally nipped but I am a lady and don’t behave like that. I don’t bite.
Anyway whilst I endured such indignities Mum was rushing back and forth the hospital with little thought of my sufferings.
At the same time number one son in Bangkok needed surgery too and for one heart-stopping moment I thought she was going to put us in kennels and fly over to him but then I realised that she couldn’t because of Dad and I could breath again.
But still – what about me?
At last when I thought my suffering would never end Dad came home and he’s fine.
Really he is.
I’m sure his heart will be okay soon and with any luck he’ll be out walking Raff again and doing all the stuff he usually does. And I’m sure that huge cut doesn’t hurt a bit. I don’t know what the fuss was about.
Finally Mum turned her thoughts to me and twigged something other than allergies was going on and took me to see the lovely Peter, my vet.
I was a little insulted when he commented that I smelt a little and Mum was very embarrassed because she had been trying to keep me clean. They talked over me and about me for a while and Peter took some blood to test. He is gentle and considerate. Mum could learn a few things from him. Though not how to take my temperature. We won’t talk about that!
Anyway at last, someone was paying attention to me.
In the end it seems that my problem is one that many of the older ladies suffer with, a little problem of leakage when I sleep (glad you can’t see my blush) and should be fixed with a little hormone pill every week.
I was relieved to have it sorted and Mum was very relieved that it wasn’t something more serious and Peter gave me a couple of liver treats because I was so good and brave. It was worth going to see him.
So that my friends was my month.
I was neglected. Almost starved, or at least in fear of starving which is close to the same thing which I’m sure you would understand Phenny.
And, I had a close encounter with a very eager toy poodle who had clearly been watching the wrong kind of television, and he didn’t even offer me dinner! What is it with the younger generation?
What sort of a Princess does he think I am?
I am beginning to think I am not being fully appreciated.
And to top it all off we had to suffer a trip to the Groom Room. Some months are just best put behind you and forgotten.
BTW – for those of you who might be interested. At the time of publishing Dad is back to normal duties. He’s walking the boy, shopping, driving and gardening. Doing all the things he always did. Apparently it is a miracle.
Me. I needed a little extra medicine. No-one tells me I’m miraculous but then I guess for a Princess it’s just part of the job description. Being Amazing is in my DNA 🙂
Bye for now.