reminder for everyone, Molly’s body shape is kinda like a sausage, long and round. Making her in this situation look like a runaway truck on ice which is being passed by its own trailer) Before certain doom, Molly closed her eyes and thought of her happy place. Which seemed to work because everything stopped, she became thoughtless and weightless in her own mind as she waited for the worst to happen. She slowly realised two things, one – her body had stopped moving and two – more importantly there wasn’t any intense agonising pain. So at this Molly felt it must be safe to open her eyes. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, the first thing that came into focus happened to be her tennis ball. Relief spread through Molly and she conclude that she had to have stopped in time and her ball must have rolled back out. She reached a paw out slow with trouble in the dismal shade to pick up her ball. On seeing her paw for this first time since she opened her eyes she’d noticed that it looked slightly different. All over it were lots of little wooden tuft’s poking out of her fur… oh they weren’t poking out but poking in! (A major scientific discovery was found on that day, only this wasn’t it). Still trapped in-between thought and pain. Molly believed that she must have discovered how to send the body’s central nervous system away for a short vacation and all you needed was a lot of adrenalin, excitement, fear, sweat and a thousand thorny acupuncture spikes sticking into every inch of bare fur at the same time. But before she could conclude that this was highly unlikely (not only because she hadn’t received a phone call or postcard from her nervous system) her limbic system which controls pain, switched back on.
When Molly had seen her beloved prized tennis ball being

tossed away by her now ex-best friend, she’d ran very quickly after it, but compared to the shear painfully quick speed she’d achieved leaving the hawthorn bush, she might as well of been ambling along at a gentle pace. She bouncing from tree trunk to tree trunk, not knowing where to turn or how to relieve her k9 person of the thorns. Her subconscious flashed back to the fire dog training course from years ago, which stated; if on fire stop drop and roll. Well to Molly this felt like the fiery pits of hell and so she rolled, pulled, scratched and shook the pointy teeth out of her tattered fur coat. The speed at which Molly shot out of the bushes created a slip stream behind her with the air and this had dragged the ball along after her, so when Molly finally stopped pulling at her hide, she saw the ball roll along by her paw. Only the ball wasn’t the only object caught in the air flow. There were about fifty other very small and sharp unidentified flying objects which had been pulled along with the ball, and when she bent down to pick up her prize win ball they hit their prize. Molly didn’t see where they had struck; instead she felt all fifty thorns make her bottom into a pin cushion.
A battered, bruised and sore Molly limped back to Mona. She held the tennis ball in her mouth. Thoughts of torture and painful experiments went through Molly’s mind, which involving Mona as the guinea pig (for example she wanted to fire Mona out of a cannon, into a water fall of honey, through a wall of T-bone steaks and land in a cage full of very hungry lions. Not exactly scientific more psychotic, but compared to the other ideas Molly had, this was quite timid, and if I wrote some of those ideas down the story would have to have a rating of 18 years or older stamped all over