Friday, November 22, 2019
The oldest adage in the world.
A flood of visitors at the front gate. Somehow,the villagers have heard that Angus has been away. 'The Font' informs everyone that I'm resting. The Belgian lady bakes me a cake. Such are the courtesies of French village life.
The oldest adage in the world : It never rains but it pours. Bob, that most affable of companions, is not well.
He's not eaten since Tuesday. His stomach is having spasms. His pupils saucer like. Nothing stays down .... or in. Three trips to the vets with 'The Font' in the last 60 hours. Blankets piled up to keep him warm and cosy. The guess is , although there's no proof, that he's eaten some mouldy walnuts. This autumn the vet has seen two or three dogs a day suffering from this. Something to do with the walnut skins fermenting in the unseasonably wet conditions and creating toxins. Bob's had injections and his stomach cleaned out. Now we wait.
Even Sophie is aware that her brother is unwell.
After his operation Angus finds it helps to get up and walk around the house in the small hours.This strange timekeeping works out well - late night 'twinges' can be ignored. The family fellow now asleep under my desk, chin resting on my feet. There are some benefits of dog ownership, mutual devotion being one of them, that are eternal although not without cost. The good thing is that Bob is at heart as tough as nails. Being able to sleep with your chin on your best friends toes is of course the very best medicine.