I know, I know, hold the front page. It's a little bit tragic when the most exciting event in your life is a new doormat. However, the mud months are beginning, and once you first hear the patter of tiny (dog) feet, you begin to appreciate things that are machine washable. Before I had dogs, I never gave doormats a second thought.
The dogs have just pointed out that they themselves must not get wet, under any circumstances. Today's venture out into the drizzle was a one-off.
Herbie's sub-mandibular nodes are beginning to swell a little. I'm not sure if this is normal, but it's 10 days before we see the new vet in Knaresborough. He's doing OK, and is now sleeping with Honky the Pheasant curled up under his chin. (Honky no longer honks, since Holly punctured the squeaker. This means that he is safe for Herbie to sleep on.)