Last night was no exception. So it was only to be expected that he failed to do an accurate head count of the livestock at bedtime. He just assumed Paddy would be cosily curled up in my bed, as that is where Paddy usually is after 9pm.
This morning whilst at work I received this phone call.
So that’s where you’re at.
Where else would I be?
Do you know where Paddy is?
What! How should I know where Paddy is? Isn’t he with you? What’s wrong?
He’s not in the house or the yard or anywhere. I’ve looked everywhere. He’s not lying dead anywhere.
What! Dead! Find him!
I can’t! I’ve got the digger man here in 10 minutes.
What’s more important? The dog or the digger man? Find Paddy!
Distraught I slam down the phone.
Fifteen minutes later Bert phoned back.
Well it’s all right. I’ve found him.
Where was he?
He was in the field in front of the house. He was just sitting there with his head stuck in a yellow bucket. He didn’t know where he was. I think he’d been sitting there all night. He couldn’t find his way home.
Oh God! The poor thing. Is he OK?
He’s a bit quiet on it.
Give him a big kiss and hug from me.
I can’t. He boked in the bucket. He’s stinking of vomit.
Oh wash it off and kiss him anyway.
Poor Paddy. He has been very stressed all day. But he cheered up to no end when HANNAH CAME HOME!