This is unbelievable...

...says Henry.

So there I was, (he continues) minding my own business - sniffing smells, looking for dead stuff and poop to roll in, hunting bunnies and squirrels and so on. It was great. Although there was all that cold white stuff coming out of the sky. And it was a bit chilly. And I was a bit damp. So what with me being a dog disadvantaged in the hip department, it did make me feel a bit stiff. Apparently, according to the human, I was 'waddling' (what an unkind description!). Which she seemed to find quite worrying, although me and the bloke weren't that bothered.

So I got home and dried off and thought no more about it - then, today happened. We went for a walk at lunchtime, and she made me wear my jumper! My stupid damn red jumper in the picture down there, that she always said would stay in the house! Unbelievable!

And it gets worse! Tonight, instead of taking me home for my tea, we went to a horrible shop, where I got told off for yipping at the bunnies in the boxes (I thought it was like a takeaway, and you ordered the one you wanted, but apparently this is not the case?), and made me try MORE coats on, and then she bought one. She actually bought me a coat. She says I have to wear it when it's cold and wet so I don't get limpy any more. It's just. Not. Right. AND we're going to see the vet on Friday - what's all that about? Hope they keep their big needles in the box!

Am hoping for good weather so the coat stays in the car where it belongs! Please keep your paws crossed for a heatwave...

Oh honestly

I don't know what he's done, or how he did it. In fact, I don't even know what it is. All I know is, Henry has done himself an injury. Again. He has spent most of this week hobbling up and down the stairs like a geriatric sloth, looking mournful, sitting by the sofa looking mournful as he found himself lacking the spring needed to get onto it, looking mournful, forgetting temporarily to look mournful and leaping about, yelping, then slinking over to me and looking mournful, and looking mournful about not being allowed off the lead.

I have spent most of the week worrying, manipulating all his limbs, worrying, debating on whether or not to take him to the vets, worrying, making him get up and pootle up and down the corridor every few hours to stop him seizing up, and worrying.

Fortunately he is now staging a recovery. This is fortunate, because if I had spent months doing physio exercises to make sure I can go walking next weekend only to have it scuppered by the damn dog, I would have sunk into a decline.