Welcome to Planet Hartwell. Home of the Supreme Commander, the Tribe of Three and the St Francis of Assisi Refuge for Mentally Challenged Animals. This week we played a new round of "What's Wrong With Bandit", after he decided to forget how to walk, midway across the lounge. The mother of all mothers decided that the best way to fix the problem was to go to the horse's mouth. Or the dog's rear end, in this case. Note for future reference....you can't jumpstart a Heinz 57. So she asked Bandit what the problem was. I had a fair idea that the dog not being able to speak english was a problem, but wasn't about to point it out, as I have a total Captain Obvious phobia. So after a presumptive "no comment" we rang the vet.
"Hi, it's Mrs Hartwell.....yes, that's right, with the nuerotic bitzer and the fat cavvy, uhuh. Yeah. Umm, look, I think Bandit's forgotten how to walk. Well he's sitting in the middle of the floor looking worried. Well, MORE worried than usual. Yes I can bring him down now. No, the cost is fine....we were eating three times a week, anyway."
Turns out Bandit has epilepsy....the boys are fascinated. Sebi refers to it as 'pepsi-lepsi' or pepsi, as in "hey mum, Bandit's havin' a Pepsi". Firstborn calls it 'flipping the safety'....Bandit continues to periodically sit and look worried. The vet has assured us that it won't kill him. The cat thinks it's fabulous.
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