Lost voice, lost dog

Carolyn has got a stinking cold and has lost her voice. She took the day off work yesterday, so she sent me a text message to cancel our weekly lunchtime coffee appointment. I gave her a call back, and we had a whispered telephone conversation. I don't suppose there was any real need for me to whisper as well, but it was kind of fun, and it all sounded very clandestine.

Carolyn explained how, on returning home after dropping her youngest off at school that morning, she discovered that the family dog had gone missing. She searched the house high and low, but there was no sign of it. So she went out into the garden to call to the dog—but she had lost her voice, so she could only manage a pathetic croak. She tried beeping her car horn (which usually summons the dog, apparently), but to no avail. So, increasingly anxious, she went looking for the dog in the nearby roads and ended up traipsing across several adjacent fields: still no joy.

Then Carolyn, employing her own unique form of logic, came up with a brilliant solution to her not-being-able-to-call-the-dog problem: she phoned her parents to ask them to drive round to her house and call the dog for her. Carolyn's bemused mum then explained that her dad had already called round that morning, as he does every Tuesday morning, to take the dog back to their house to look after while Carolyn was at work.

I reckon Carolyn must have been overdoing it with the Tixylix.

Postscript: Carolyn could probably do with one of these.


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