Henry, the Cavalier King Charles who descends from royalty has survived a brush with a most grievous calamity. It seems, two weeks ago, the Cavalier King had a close call in what proved to be an unfortunate accident. Against all odds he smacked his head into a lamp post, thus scratching the cornea of his left eye.
It was enough to knock him off his royal throne, and send him sailing into the bushes. Toby, a passerby Maltese who arrived seconds after the mishap, claimed to see tiny stars spinning around Henry’s Royal head as Henry wobbled to and fro.
“I was gobsmacked,” said a shaken Henry.
“Touch and go,” an eyewitness who saw it all was overheard to say.
The eyewitness was none other than Oliver Twist, a two-year-old Maltipoo and sidekick companion to the Cavalier King. Mr. Twist, with a look of horror in his eyes, went on to describe the accident as “ghastly.”
“I was terrified,” admitted the young lad. “After hitting his head, Henry seemed to lose all sense of balance and came careening toward me. I barked like mad, sure that I was to be crushed by his oncoming girth. Thankfully, Cook intervened, and her extended hand caught Henry in the nick of time. I might have laughed at the sight of him, had I not been overcome with a sense of impending doom.”
His royal highness, as Henry prefers to be called, would later say, “I felt as though someone was pulling me toward the lamp post. It was as if I was having an out of body experience. Or perhaps it was Cook. After all, she had been holding my leash. I can’t be certain as I’m still in shock.”
Attempts to reach Cook by phone were unsuccessful, though later she issued a brief statement through her attorney. It went something like this:
“At first, Cook wouldn’t take me to the emergency room, which would have been my preference seeing how I was in bloody pain,” said Henry. “Something about wanting to save money, she said. But I come from strong stock. Noblesse oblige and all that, so I muddled through. Though, with one eye out of commission and smarting like the Dickens, I kept tripping over the furniture, unable to gain my balance. After what seems like ages, Cook finally sought medical attention for me. It’s amazing what medicine can do.”
“And funny, too,” noted Mr. Twist. “The Royal Doctor made him wear a peculiar-looking cone on his head, to keep him from rubbing his eye. Fancy that!”
“Er, no need to bring that up, Laddy,” scolded a perturbed Henry. “That was only, ahem, temporary. Needless to say, it’s all better now, thanks to the Royal Doctor.”
When asked what it was that put the Cavalier King on the path to healing, the Royal Doctor explained, “Henry had what we in the veterinary field call, a Corneal Ulcer, and it was his own blood that cured it. We drew his blood from his posterior, then spinned it into a plasma serum which was used as eye drops. The result was truly remarkable.”
“And gross,” interjected the Twist boy.
“I’m just thankful to be alive,” said Henry who is now in the peak of health. “Who knows what would have happened if Cook hadn’t broken my fall?”
“Or if she had taken you sooner to see the Royal Doctor instead of letting the wound fester for weeks,” countered the mischievous Mr. Twist.
When contacted for a statement on Henry’s improved condition, Cook, through her attorney, said something that went like this:
“Oh, is he all better? Whew. That’s a relief. What was my involvement in the accident, you ask? Well, that depends. Is he suing me for negligence? Then, no comment.”
Oh, no! And he has to wear the cone of shame! It’s all so, so wrong. 😦 Hope it heals soon.
Oh yes, Jayne. It’s already healed, thank goodness. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise. But if anyone asks, I’m sticking to, “No comment.” 😉
It’s that stiff upper lip thing, not complaining sooner. I am certain that is it. Had he spoken up sooner I am certain you would have rushed him to the royal doctor….right?
Well glad to see he is better.
If he had said, “Cook, I’m in agony,” or something to that effect, I would’ve taken him straight away. But he’s such a little soldier. Stoically dealing with it. Thank goodness, he’s back to his old self. 😉
Oh I am so relieved Henry’s ordeal is over. I’m certain all he wants to do is take leisurely walks, smell the lovely Spring air, and await the birth of the Royal Baby.
The Royal doctor must be commended on ensuing a speedy recovery, that serum couldn’t have been easy to take. Back to being HRH then. I for one am happy Henry isn’t wearing a cone, he is so regal and handsome.
Me, too, MM. It’s the best feeling ever, to look at his eye and know that he’s okay. He survived! It really was touch and go. I thought he might lose it–or perhaps need glasses. Luckily, neither was the case! 😉
Monica, it sounds as if the two of them are ganging up on you (and perhaps considering legal intervention??). I do hope you can find a witness — just in case, you know! — who can substantiate your innocence! As for Sir Henry, well, gee, I’m just tickled to hear he’s back to the land of the living! What an ordeal, especially for a royal used to being pampered and all!!
They’re not ganging up. Bless their hearts. I’m the one who is overcome with guilt that I didn’t seek medical attention soon enough. What pain must he have been in? What agony?? For four days (including the weekend) I thought it would show improvement on his own. I mean, in all actuality, he didn’t seem to hit the pole that hard. But he must have smacked it with his eye wide open–though who doesn’t shut their eye when they’re about to hit something? Reflex, I tell you! Apparently, Henry has no reflexes, so he scraped his eye. Thankfully, it’s all behind us. Sigh.
Poor Henry! What an ordeal. Brave soul.
His Highness kept a stiff upper lip through the entire incident. Never once complained of his tenuous state.
As for poor Henry being gobsmacked, I thought the term eye smacked would be more accurate.
As for the drawing of blood, it makes a whole new meaning to the term “Bum treatment.” I should point out that over here what those call the Ass in the States we call the bum. Just chucked that in as a little bit of background information.
Pleased though that Henry is now in the peak of health, and I trust there is no truth in the rumour that Henry has commissioned a gold head cone with little crown on just in case he needs it again.
Thanks for the tips on how the British say bum. I much prefer that word than to the American, which sounds so rough around the edges. A gold cone head with a crown? Sounds exactly like something Henry would order. Love the idea, actually. 😉