Bleeding Fat Flaps

The  cottage smells strongly of TCP.
The casualty?
Winnie's fat flaps.
At least once daily since she arrived Mary has delighted in swinging herself around by Winnie's facial fat flaps.
Winnie, a veteran of a dozen puppies or so, has so far put up with this dreadful and obviously painful activity with amazing alacrity. So much so, that even the Professor ( who is not a big bulldog fan) will hastily intervene when a particularly large mouthful of face has been dragged  about the living room by needle sharp little teeth for what he deems to be an excessive amount of time

Today I felt some TCP and TLC was in order and Winnie was asked to lie on the sofa, in order for me to assess the damage.
Winnie secretly loves this attention and I haven't seen so much drama queen activity since The Professor found a headless rabbit corpse at the foot of the stairs.
With her left paw held aloft she will moan ever so gently as I tab away at her sore bits, occasionally opening her eyes to check if and when another dab was on the cards, so much so that when it finally arrived she would lick her lips noisily in contentment.
If, however, I was slow at administering the aforementioned swab, then she would  wiggle a pudgy outstretched paw in a frantic circle , a signal for me to hurry up and get on with things.

She was obviously enjoying herself.

That was half an hour ago, and she is still lying on the couch now, her head thrown back on the cushions like Scarlett O'Hara after a busy night.

Divas........two in one small cottage....its somewhat crowded.