At least, that's what the vet thinks it is, unless of course it's a mast cell tumour, in which case it's a whole new world of unhappiness... There I was, minding my own business, as much as I'm ever capable of, and thinking Herbie was fine, when suddenly a large red boil erupts on his neck. I think it was Noel Coward said that while he liked a manly man and a womanly woman, he couldn't abide a boily boy.
Herbie, now alias boily boy, seemed OK, still eating like a wolf, but he went to the vet pronto. Vet has now gained confidence, and has realised that greyhounds run away rather than bite. He thought that histiocytomas (see how that word trips off the tongue) were more common in younger dogs, but that the head and neck were common places to find them. If it was a nasty (technical term there), then it would be more likely to be on his torso.
Hmm. It's all proving to me that I really need to be At Home With Herbie. I think he's coming out with the ailments I used to have, when I first started this job. Pain in the neck, paralysed shoulder and arm, duff foot - all signs my body didn't want to go to this job. I ignored them (mortgage to pay) so now Herbie's coming out with them instead. My poor boy - when will I listen?
Soon, I promise you. As soon as I've sold my house, we can go live in a caravan or a tent or anything, and I will be a stay-at-home-Mom. This bad-job year has to end. Before I spend any more at the vets...