Something happened to Winnie yesterday afternoon.
It involved the kitchen table, Mary and six goose eggs in a bowl.
Not having CCTV in the kitchen, I will never be quite sure what indeed happend but when I returned from shopping for the Prof's birthday dinner ( I prepared a nice Indian banquet btw), the kitchen chairs had been knocked over , three goose eggs had disappeared and Winnie was limping very badly indeed.
I can only surmise what happened.
There is nothing quite drama Queeny than a poorly bulldog.
They kind of decend into the depths of mental decline, when ill or in pain and need very careful handling if they are to be cajoled into some sort of normality.
As the Prof chomped his way through a Chocolate choux Bun ( a gift from the Affable despots' girls) I gave Winnie a detailed physical, concentrating on her painful leg which she kindly waved in my direction from her collapsed position by the fire.
I couldn't feel anything abnormal, but it was clear that she had banged herself badly as she wasn't weight bearing the affected leg, so I gave her hip a full massage, slipped her an energy boosting morsal of chorizo sausage ( I know, I know!) and made her comfortable for the night.
Not a happy bunny
And so I've had to shower her fat face with sympathetic kisses, spoon half acup of sweet tea into her favourite bowl and have given her hip a gentle once over with warm hands
It's a good job I'm also a trained psychiatric nurse!
After I cut the lawn and weeded the borders, this photo was taken.
Still on her sickbed, Winnie was laid out in the sun to recuperate
There she was fed her dinner and given water, and she has remained
Watched over by George.
I think she'll pull through