The garden outside our Welsh cottage is small but lovely. However, interspersed among the beauty are thorns. Nasty, prickly thorns that seem to appear from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

A few days ago, Tess came bounding into the house from her garden adventures, but instead of her usual exuberance, she limped across the floor, frantically licking her front paw. Jason scooped her up immediately, cradling her like a baby to examine the source of her distress.

"There it is," he announced, pointing to an enormous thorn embedded deeply in the pad of her paw. "This is going to hurt, girl."

As if understanding his words, Tess began to squirm and whimper, but Jason held her firmly. With one swift movement, he extracted the thorn. Tess yelped, then immediately relaxed in his arms.