I’m not too certain but have I ever told all you good folks of my aversion to visiting the vets? As a young puppy I was quite relaxed with them, there always seemed to be treats involved for good behaviour. But a few years ago I suffered what has become known as the “Anal Gland Incident”. I’ve never forgotten it, I can honestly say. As a result, the memory of it fills me with dread and I am never too keen to visit the surgery just down the road. They try hard, and I suppose really they are nice people, but I do prefer to avoid them if possible.
Recently I was overdue my annual injections. The Boss took me down but wasn’t allowed in as is normal, so I was swept away by the lady vet and he was left outside! It did rather bring home to us both quite how the world has changed with this Covid stuff. Actually I survived quite well, although the bad news of the day was that I am developing cataracts. It seems I’m too old to risk anaesthetic, so no operation possible and I suppose I am going to have to get used to a fairly dark vision of life.
We hadn’t been in our lovely town in the day from March 8th until this week when His Nibs had his hair cut. Speaking as someone who has had to look at the unruly pigeon’s nest perched over his ears, I was delighted. I must tell you all that he had a couple of attempts to control the spiky mass using his electric razor and one of those combs with a razor blade in it, self-cutting so to speak. I kept out of the way but it was certainly a top comedy performance both times.
Previous to our hair-cut escapade, we’ve only gone in to town at 7.30 in the morning well before any crowds. I haven’t seen many doggie mates for ages. Him Indoors normally meets lots of people on our walks but not since then. It all seems very unnatural, surreal. Fortunately we have some lovely friends and most have popped in several times to check we are ok.
From my standpoint, it seems His Nibs has been so pleased to see our friends that he has taken to the drink when they arrive. I’ve never seen so many empty wine bottles, I tell you. Those of you who know his alcoholic tendencies will no doubt be surprised that any increase in imbibing was possible. I should be fair to him and say that his levels have greatly reduced in latter weeks, probably his poor old body was full of red wine so couldn’t take any more.
I can report though that he is a bit happier now there is football back on television. The general improvement in our United team’s performance has, however, been tempered by the media love-in to the apparently cuddly “greatest ever” scouse team that has by chance (!!!!) managed to win the league. Him Indoors commented that constantly changing tv channels to avoid the fawning over them is a little tiresome. We did laugh together when somebody wrote that “they’ve joined the one time winners Leicester and Blackburn”.
We had some hope that this pandemic might have the effect of starting politicians thinking about creating a new way of doing things, but it appears that there is nobody visionary enough to lead the change. All efforts seem to going into trying to return to the old normal as soon as possible. Shame, it would have been nice to see attempts to create a world accepting that climate change matters. That being nice to each other is better than stabbing people in the back to achieve an extra quid! Understanding that it is people and living creatures that matter, not chasing the dollar. I suppose that with a lunatic in charge of the American asylum that is all far too optimistic in reality.
We’ve seen Mr Bridges a couple of times since he brought out the envy in His Nibs by having a short trip to France. His Nibs loves France, a proper Francophile, although he’s broken a lifetime’s habit in recent years and bought wine from other countries on occasion. Mr B took me out for a walk and I repayed him in the appropriate manner by delivering him a good dollop of poop. I lay on my back, kicked my legs and laughed watching his attempt to get the aforementioned poop into the plastic poop bag. Life can be so good sometimes!
Him Indoors was put out when the electric supply disappeared last week after an early morning power cut. He actually kept his temper rather well bearing in mind the frustration of nothing working! The power company kept ringing to “keep him informed” and eventually a gang turned up and fitted a temporary supply. Their day ended at nearly 10.00 at night and they have left us a great big hole outside the back-door. I’m having to be very careful not to fall in it!
Finally, I’m not getting on very well with these masks. After all, I’m designed to eat (the same could be said of Him Indoors but he would be a touch offended I suspect) and masks and eating don’t go together. This is to say nothing that my ears are no good to hold the mask up. We’ve had a couple of attempts but I’m hoping The Boss will give up trying. To be honest, I’ve not seen him actually wearing one yet and I reckon there will be a few laughs coming my way as an impartial observer.
Time now for bit more sleep before a drink in the courtyard. Stay safe!
Woof! Woof!
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