Baby’s Insides are Hanging Out by Tommy Neilson-Gaffney
Not so long ago I used to work in a party shop in the city centre of Glasgow. I loved my job. Helping to make balloon decorations for weddings or birthday parties, helping the public choose fancy dress costumes for theme nights they had been invited to however there was one day that took my skills as a shop assistant to the extreme.
It was a sunny day and I had not long returned from my lunch break. The city centre was strangely void of people resulting in my day on the shop floor to be quiet. I had just begun to price some new costumes that had arrived in a delivery earlier that day when a distressed looking woman entered the shop.
‘Excuse me. Can you help me?’
‘Certainly.’ The woman walks towards me and I soon notice that she has a small Scottie dog walking beside her. ‘I’m sorry but you’re not allowed dogs in the shop.’
‘Baby is the reason why I came in.’ I was thrown with her statement. Not only because she had come into a party shop due to a dog but also on the fact that she had named her dog Baby.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘I was hoping you could tell me how to get to the animal hospital from here. Baby’s insides are hanging out.’
‘Its insides?’ I leaned over the counter to look at the dog, which looked perfectly healthy to me when I saw it enter the shop with its owner. Sure enough, while Baby stood sniffing the counter a red blob was hanging out of its bottom and it was…pulsating. The look on my face alarmed the woman.
‘Well can you help me?’
‘Yes. Now if you walk up Hope Street as far as you can then turn left and follow the road round. Once you get to the underpass you will see the animal hospital across the road from the Chinese supermarket. You can’t miss it.’
‘How far is it to walk?’
‘About half an hours walk. You could get a bus from across the road.’
‘I can’t. Baby doesn’t like to travel. She gets travel sick and she is in enough trauma.’
Poor wee thing I thought to myself. Imagine having your insides hanging out of your bum and having to suffer travel sickness. I looked over the counter again at the poor little thing and it was then that I saw something a little odd about Baby’s insides. I walked round the counter and knelt on the floor beside the dog. Baby came towards me wagging its tail and trying to lick my hand. Gently I tried to turn the dog to get a better view of its bottom and there it was.
‘Baby’s insides are not hanging out.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The dog has swallowed a red balloon.’
‘You’re kidding me?’ The woman looked closely at her dog's bottom and relief washed over her face. ‘Why is it moving?’ She asked with a slight hint of concern.
‘The neck of the balloon is still inside her. Every time she tries to pass the balloon out it inflates slightly.’ The woman was now highly embarrassed as I picked up a pair of scissors and cut the top of the balloon away.
‘She must have swallowed the balloon at the wee ones birthday party the other day. Do you think I still need to take her to the animal hospital?’
‘I doubt it. The other half of the balloon should come out in due course.’ The woman was now smiling and just as I thought that she was going to leave she walked back to the till.
‘Do you think I could borrow a polly bag? You know for when Baby…’
