Hedgehogging

I have upset the dog.  When she first came to live with us last September, somebody bought her a squeaky hedgehog.  This is a toy – it is not real – it is deep pink and made of plastic.  Dolly, however, does not play with it.  She does not squeak it or throw it but occasionally lays it on our bed when we have gone out.   If either Mike or I give it the odd pinch to make it squeak she hurries to our side looking shocked.  We suspect she thinks the hedgehog is a very small stupid animal whom we occasionally torture.  

This morning I accidentally squeaked the hedgehog whilst I was trying to do something to the settee Dolly hurried to the rescue.  Thinking to settle this squeaky toy business once and for all, I made it squeak a lot.  Dolly stared at me, appalled, then threw up all her breakfast on the carpet.  She hasn’t done that before.    I think we must give up on any idea of squeaking or getting plastic appliances to squeak for us.  She really doesn’t like it.

However, what I was trying to do to the settee when I squeaked the hedgehog was to clean it very comprehensively.  It is a settee bed and hasn’t been used as such in years.  I thought I would open it up completely and remove any bits of grunge or dust lurking in its cavities.   Removing the cushions I found quite a few bits of fluff, a darning needle, a sewing needle and a button.    But when I pulled out the bed part of it, I discovered that a small hole had been chewed in the mattress and, in the inner layers were eight unshelled walnuts laid out in two neat rows.  They were clearly some little creature’s winter store and I have cruelly removed them.  We’ll have to buy a new mattress for the settee as people may not sleep on one used by mice – friends being picky like that.  I could be quite wrong about the mice though, and Dolly may know much more than I do about the secret life of the deep pink hedgehog.