Wizki Tales

Wizki’s Allergy

Wizki is a fashionable pup. He likes to look good in the latest trendy styles, the latest haircut, to talk the latest street talk. He likes to hang out with the cool kids and listen to the latest beats.

So imagine his disappointment when Fiona stopped him as he was leaving the flat on his way to the playground and said:

“Wizki, you can’t go out. You have a rash all round your jaw. And I think you’ve been losing fur: there are tufts of dog hair missing from round your neck. Oh dear, I wonder what is wrong.”

Fiona made an appointment for Wizki to see the vet. The vet examined Wizki and gave his prognosis:

“It seems Wizki has an allergy.”

This disappointed Wizki, as he was wanting a proper doggie disease like worms, or maybe even rabies. He didn’t even know what an allergy was, and he certainly couldn’t be bothered being afflicted by one.

The way to treat an allergy, said the vet, is to find out what the patient is allergic to, and then keep them away from it. Wizki didn’t like the sound of that: it sounded ominously like they were going to take his toys away.

He underwent a series of tests at the hospital to see if he was allergic to cats or dust or wheat or coffee. But every test proved negative, and not just because Wizki invalidated each test with excessive scratching. It was proving a real puzzle.

For a week, Fiona changed Wizki’s dog food to see if that cleared the matter up. Every day when Fiona came back from work, the rash was still there, and the hair was still extremely patchy.

She hid his polo neck woollen jumper, to see if that had an effect, but no, it seemed Wizki was not allergic to wool.

Fiona bought Wizki new bedsheets for his kennel, but that didn’t help either. The whole matter had Fi flummoxed.

Wizki milked it, staying off school because he said he was anxious. He sat on the sofa, watching TV while Fiona buzzed around him doing his chores because he said he was too weak to do housework.

Wizki normally cleaned the bathroom in order to earn his pocket money. It was while cleaning the bathroom cabinet that Fiona found something puzzling.

“Wizki, what’s this?”

Fiona held up a rusty safety razor.

Wizki looked decidedly sheepish: “Don’t know”, he fibbed.

“Have you been shaving?”

“Might have,” he said, quietly.

“What have you been shaving?” Fiona asked, dreading the answer.

“My beard,” came the reply.

“ Wizki, you don’t have a beard. You are a dog: you are naturally furry. This fuzzy stuff all over your body is dog hair.” Fiona sighed: she was beginning to understand. “What did you use for shaving foam?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you use soap and water?”

“Don’t like soap. Or water.”

“You shaved yourself without soap or water?”

Wizki nodded.

“And how often have you been doing this?”

“Every day!”

Fiona was flabbergasted: “We’ve spent the last 3 weeks trying to find a cure for your allergy, and now it turns out you’ve been giving yourself a rash because you shaved with a blunt razor, when you didn’t need to shave anyway. You’ve had us thinking your hair is falling out!”

Wizki sat with a pout: he knew he’d done wrong.

“You really are a silly puppy.”

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