The sock


Once upon a time, there was a puppy called Luna who liked to chew socks. This in itself is not too dissimilar from any other puppy ever alive.

But on this particular Wednesday, Luna decided on a more entertaining game.

After escaping the kitchen, Luna made a run for the stairs. Each step almost as big as her, she bounded up the stairs as fast as her little legs would allow, shortly followed by my father in tow.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Luna eyed up the sock in question. Instinctively my father leaped to catch her, but thinking this was some sort of new game she’d invented, Luna ran.

Only to be stopped in her tracks by Mother on her way into her bedroom. Thinking this was an even more fun game – playing chase and being the centre of attention – Luna proceeded to swallow the sock. Whole. Not even chewed. The whole sock – gone.

Luna had won. Or at least she thought she was winning.

*Knock, knock, knock*

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” my Father asks.

“Good” I respond as a little puppy launches herself on my bed, showering me in kisses.

“Well, she’s alive…But she kind of ate a sock…”

“You’re kidding” I say giggling, my Father being the family joker.

“No, I’m really not.”

I rushed the very unusually quiet puppy to the vets, my fears confirmed by the immediate X-ray upon arrival. At only 16 weeks old and a full size sock inside her, she was rushed into surgery. At about 1pm I received a phone call from the Vet, stating that the operation had gone smoothly and she was recovering. He proceeded to ask me about my bath mat and asked me if it was “Wash at 30 degrees”” and ” Do not tumble dry”, much to my confusion. He had also extracted a Dunelm label…

High on painkillers, I returned home with a very sorry looking puppy, some special post-op food and my black and white stripey sock …


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