While I was on the telephone doing the rounds of Software support, Tech Support and others at Compaq, Liquorice was biting many of her squeaky toys that litter the floor of my home-office. When Liquorice chewed her empty plastic drink bottle I could comprehend even less than usual of the folks at Compaq’s advice! To quieten my little darling I removed a slipper and allowed Liquorice to start nibbling on the end of my sock. To Liquorice that is a necessary pastime if I fail to wear slippers in the house! My little darling loves to tug and nibble at the toes of my socks. She then jerks and wiggles at it, interspersed with periods of slow gnawing, almost like a cow chewing its cud, until I presume, the flavor has gone. Then she pulls again stretching the sock until eventually she removes it completely, claiming it all for her own. By then though, the slimy sock is not worth putting back on. Not that she actually inserts holes in them but rather Liquorice chews on them like chewing gum! But I digress. Playing with my sock was, under the circumstances, infinitely preferable to the various distracting sounds my little darling was taking a delight in making.
So my office co-worker contented herself nibbling away at my sock for quite some time, then seemed to stop. The helpful people at Compaq, as per usual, were leaving me more and more confused as the time slipped by. Instinctively I pulled up my sock, using only one hand and, not with any speed however time seems no longer to exist when chatting to Tech Support! It did appear though that I had been pulling my sock for some time when I was distracted by the feeling of skin instead of sock. As if I was not confused enough already I had now run out of sock. Bewilderment appeared to be my burden together with seeming to see more and more computer screens and the room spinning around but then that is normal when talking to these people.
When next I was placed on hold I examined my leg. There was my sock, all above the ankle. Swiveling around on my chair I saw Liquorice peacefully laying on her side stretched out in contentment for all she was worth. Another look at my sock and removing it revealed that all forward of my heel was missing. I looked around the floor but could not find it. Then I noticed that Liquorice’s mouth was not quite closed and yes, that is where the “toe” end of my sock now called home! No holes in it just cut through as neatly as if my little darling had used scissors. A soggy sock, slimed liberally by an expert, is not the most pleasant item to examine but a welcome diversion from the big brain types at Tech Support!
Arthur Witten
Liquorice – If you’re gonna do something, do it proper!