Bob has his blood test. Or, to be more precise, blood tests. Samples have to be taken an hour apart. To keep him occupied between times 'The Font' walks him round the lake not once but twice. He is keen to chat to the fishermen but is 'hurried' along. Two types of eye drops are prescribed.
Our vet proffers the practical view that a rescheduling of the MRI scan is important. Some suspicions are worth checking out. '' It may not tell us what the problem is but it'll almost certainly show what it isn't ". There is a French logic to this.
Back at home Bob dozes in the sunshine then heads off with his master for a walk down the hill to the stream. He stops and communes with a group of young cows having a bath in a mud hollow.
While Bob waits outside I pop in quickly to check the new nativity scene. Still devoid of the baby ...
,,, and notice a truly terrifying, androgynous, plaster angel. A four year old seeing this would have recurrent nightmares.
At the bakers we buy a tarte tatin. The real reason for going was for the family fellow to get the choux pastry crumbs he was deprived of yesterday. These are received with enthusiasm - there's nothing wrong with his tail.
I find it difficult ( scroll down in the story ) to believe that Bum, the three legged St.Bernard cross, is a mascot of San Diego :