Picture the scene: Mr Chic and I are travelling along the M1, hurtling our way towards Ramsgate. The car is crackling with excitement as we have two weeks off.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a puppy looking out of the back window of the car in front. The poor little thing was lying at an very odd angle, and being squashed by suitcases.
Me: “Honey, that puppy looks really uncomfortable. Can you pass the car so I can see if it’s OK?
Mr Chic: (who is a big softy when it comes to our furry friends): “Will do.”
Me: (craning my neck and squinting through my varifocals as we pass the car) “OH MY GOD! It’s is being completely flattened up against the back widow by suitcases. We have to do something!!”
Mr Chic: “Maybe it’s crawled back there and the driver doesn’t know.”
Me: ” What are we going to do? We can’t just drive along while a puppy suffocates!”
Mr Chic: Can you get the drivers attention?”
Me: I’ll try. NO, he’s indicating to pull off at the next junction!!”
Mr Chic: “Calm down, I’ll pull off and follow him.”
Me: “If we don’t do something soon we’re going to have a dead puppy on our conscience.”
Mr Chic: “God, don’t say that.”
Me: “I think I’ll ring the police. They might be able to pull him over and save Wheezy.”
Mr Chic: “Who the hell is Wheezy?”
Me: “It’s what I’ve christened the puppy – it’s the noise he must be making trying to breath with all those cases on him. Poor thing, he must be gasping for oxygen! I’m dialling 999.”
Mr Chic: “Honey, hang up the phone!”
Me: “But the puppy…….”
Mr Chic: “NOW!”
Me: (Almost in tears): “Well what else can we do?”
Mr Chic: “I suggest we make you an appointment to see the optician.”
Mr Chic: “Because we’ve been trying to rescue a bloody rolled up coat with a fur hood you numpty!”
Yep, it turned out we added twenty minutes to our journey and got freaked out over a bit of faux fur. It certainly is a dogs life!