The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1241 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

There was a loud knock at the back door and when I asked who it was, they answered ‘Police.’ I took a chance and opened it. “Looks like the intruder has gone, the helicopter is on its way so we might pick him up, someone will be along shortly to talk with you and Lady Dawes.”

“Is everyone alright?” I asked in case I could help.

“One of the dogs has been hit pretty bad.”

“Can I see him?”

“I wouldn’t advise it ma’am, it’s not a pretty sight.”

“Let me see if I can help.”

“I don’t know...” I didn’t hear if he said anything else because I knew any help I could render would be eroded by time.

I found two of the police bent over the injured dog, and it was quite obvious the animal had lost quite a lot of blood, in fact he was barely alive. “Can you bring him into the house?”

“I think it’s too late for anything now except euthanasia,” opined one of the cops.

“Please humour me,” I said firmly enough for them to do as I asked. The dog squealed when they picked him up but they followed me into the kitchen and I laid an old sheet on the table and had them put the dying dog upon it. “Thanks, I’ll call if I need you.” They left after washing the blood off their hands.

“Okay, old fellow, let’s see if this works with dogs, I don’t see why not.” The dog eyed me suspiciously but the spark was rapidly diminishing in its eyes. “Trust me, boy.” I stroked his head and he shut his eyes. The blood was seeping from a large wound in its back, to which I applied pressure with a tea cloth, and I felt the energy flowing through me. The dog whined a little, it was probably hurting, but at least he was still alive.

My other hand felt for the entry wound which I located in its chest–it was amazing the thing was still alive in view of the size of the wound. I covered the two wounds with my hands and felt a rush of power through them like I’d never had before.

Simon came in, saw the blood all over the floor and rushed off to the cloakroom where I could hear him retching. He has no stomach for gory things. My hands were now zinging with energy, my left one cold and my right one so hot it felt as if I’d have burns at any moment. The dog whined and wriggled on the table, but I held firm and told him to rest. Obviously, he was frightened and needed me to talk to him.

I chatted away to him, praising him and telling him to lie down. He tried to roll over but I held on to him and he lay still. He was panting very shallowly but now his breathing seemed to ease, and although he was still struggling for air, his breathing sounded easier and he wasn’t dripping blood from his mouth and nose. I’d stopped the haemorrhage in his lungs.

The rush of energy was slowing down and I checked the exit wound, it was much smaller and no longer bleeding. I switched hands and he whined again, the energy raised and flowed through the wounds the other way.

Ten minutes later, one of the police came in to say the vet was there to destroy the dog. I told him to wait. I was now working against the clock as much as anything. I called upon the energy to complete the job–the dog squealed and I nearly collapsed as this burst of energy flowed through me from head to toe and then out via my hands. I staggered away, and the dog rolled off the table and fell to the floor.

Thinking I’d failed I stepped away and opened the door for the vet to enter, when the dog rolled over and struggled to his feet, he walked out to the vet and wagged his tail, then sat and offered his paw to the animal medic.

“Is the one?” he asked the handler.

“Yeah, that’s Bismark.”

“What’s supposed to be the problem?”

“He was shot.”

“Where?”

“In the chest.”

“Where, I can’t see an entry wound.”

“There was huge one on his back, it was pouring blood.”

“Where? I can’t see one.”

“I saw it, I washed the stuff off my hands.”

“Well I can’t see any wound now, so I suggest you rest him up for a couple of days and bring him to me then. Get your eyes checked, too.” The irritated vet made his way out and I heard his car drive off.

“I don’t believe this, d’you mind if I check him myself.” I let him bring the dog back into my kitchen. “I know I saw him go down and part of his back flew off and the blood was everywhere.”

“Our eyes can deceive us in the dark.”

“I know it happened.” He stood up and looked at the sheet, there was no blood to be seen. “You changed the sheet.”

“I haven’t.”

“Where’s all the blood?”

“There isn’t any.”

“There must be, Collins and I were covered in it.” He glanced down at his uniform, there was no stain to be seen.

“I’m going gaga.”

“No, simply mistaken.”

“I could have sworn.”

“He’s a good dog, look after him, oh and I think you’ll find his bowel trouble will improve if you stop giving him eggs, he’s got a slight sensitivity to them.”

“That’s what my wife says.”

“Maybe you should listen. He’ll need a few days rest but should be okay afterwards.”

“What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything, I simply asked him to get better because you loved him and he loves you. He did as I asked.”

“You can’t do tennis elbow, can you? It’s bin givin’ me ‘ell for weeks.”

“Dunno.” I took his arm bent it up and straightened it rapidly and he squeaked and the dog growled momentarily, then wagged his tail at me. “Try that.”

He gingerly moved his arm, “Bloody ‘ell, it’s better, how did you do that?”

“Misdiagnosis, it was just a bit of clogging on the tendon, I freed it.”

“What do I do about the dog, they all saw him hit.”

“Convince them they were mistaken, it didn’t happen, they just thought it did, an optical illusion, the dog was winded and hence fell down.”

“What if they won’t swallow it?”

“Convince them or the elbow will get very sore again.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No a prediction.”

“What are you some sort of witch?”

“No, just an ordinary housewife who likes animals. But please keep this under your hat.”

“I’ll try.”

“Unless you want a sore elbow again, I’d do better than try.”

“That is a threat, isn’t it?”

“No, I told you a prediction.”

“You realise I could arrest you under the witchcraft act?”

“They repealed it along with fraudulent mediums.”

“So you know your stuff do you?”

“No, nor am I as stupid as you thought. Take care of your dog, he put himself on the line for you tonight, that bullet was meant for you.”

“Now I know you’re bullshitting me.”

“I wasn’t, there were two of them.”

“What?”

“The other one was in a fake police uniform but in the dark it fooled you, but not your dog. He’s smarter than you, so look after him, you may need his brains again some time. Oh and check how many cops were supposed to be there and if any went off after the shooter?”

“Holy hell, how did he pull that one off?”

“Simple, he stopped looking like a bad guy and began to look like a good one, and as soon as he did that you stopped looking for him.”

The bemused copper took his dog with him and I saw him load it and his other dog into the back of his van. He still looked stunned which wasn’t really surprising, I had just explained something which passed them all by and which I had seen as I worked on the dog, almost seeing it as if through the dog’s eyes.