In My Sister's Shoes by Sinéad Moriarty Page B

idea how to make it.
    While I chopped the courgette, blocking the boys’ view, they played with their toys and tormented Teddy. Suddenly everything was quiet. I looked around and they were gone. Fiona had said if I only remembered one thing it was that silence was deadly.
    ‘If the boys are being quiet they’re up to no good,’ she had stressed.
    I went upstairs. ‘Boys? Where are you?’
    They weren’t in their bedroom, and it was only when I was passing the bathroom that I heard a whimper. I opened the door and there stood poor Teddy, wrapped from head to toe in toilet paper. Beside him, my bag lay open, makeup all over the floor. Jack was spraying Teddy in the face with my expensive and much treasured Jo Malone perfume while Bobby was shoving my Lancôme Juicy Tube lip-gloss up the dog’s backside.
    ‘ Stop !’ I shouted, as I pushed the boys aside to rescue poor Teddy, who was looking at me through perfume-poisoned bloodshot eyes. I pulled the lip-gloss from his bum, but the top didn’t come with it. ‘Shit.’
    ‘You said “shit”,’ shouted Jack, who was back to his old boisterous self.
    Ignoring him, I looked at Bobby. ‘Was the top on this when you pushed it in?’
    ‘Dunno.’
    ‘Bobby, I need you to think. Was it or wasn’t it?’
    ‘ Dunno! ’ he shouted. And then, bored with tormenting Teddy, they ran into their bedroom to jump on their beds.
    I looked at Teddy. If the lip-gloss top was up his bum he’d be in pain. He looked in pain. Would he poo it out? Or did I have to – Oh, God – did I have to try to get it out? Teddy shuffled over to me. He was walking like John Wayne. Clearly the lip-gloss top was lodged in there.
    ‘OK,’ I said to Teddy, ‘I can sort this out. I just need to calm down and think. I can either try to fish it out myself or take you to the vet.’
    Teddy rested his head on my knee. I decided to opt for DIY. I went downstairs and put on Fiona’s Marigold washing-up gloves. I went back into the bathroom, followed by the twins, who were fed up with jumping, and turned Teddy round. I tried not to gag as I put my finger up his bum to dislodge the lip-gloss top.
    ‘ Yuck !’ shouted Bobby. ‘You’re putting your finger up Teddy’s bum!’
    ‘Smelly,’ said Jack, as they dissolved into giggles.
    I fished about, withdrew my hand and leant over the bath to retch. Even Fiona couldn’t have prepared me for this particular drama. I’d have to take Teddy to the vet.
    I ushered the boys downstairs and into the car, where they started to complain that they were hungry. I ran back into the house, grabbed a couple of slices of bread and a banana. I mushed the banana between the bread and sprinkled sugar on it, like my mum used to do when I was little. I cut it in two and handed the boys a sandwich each.
    Then I put Teddy in the front seat beside me and drove off.
    ‘Banana!’ squealed Jack.
    ‘And sugar?’ said Bobby, in shock.
    ‘Yes.’ I had no patience for complaints. ‘Delicious banana sandwiches. Now eat up.’
    The vet, thankfully, was able to fit us in and was extremely kind and patient. He didn’t give out when the twins pulled off his stethoscope and ran around bashing it on the surgery walls, and just nodded when I explained Teddy’s delicate problem. He had clearly seen it all before, which was a relief, as I was worried he would report me to the RSPCA for cruelty to animals. He expertly removed the lip-gloss top from Teddy’s bum and told me to make sure he had a soft cushion to sit on for the rest of the day, then suggested that I keep the boys away from him until he had had time to recover. He also gave me a tip. ‘Little boys can be very energetic. It’s all the testosterone. When it gets too much I recommend counting to ten. We have three boys and my wife swears by it.’
    I thanked him and when we had climbed back into the car I gave the boys a lecture. ‘What you did to Teddy was very bold and mean. He was in a lot of pain. You cannot push