Today we have mostly...

... been getting wet. Now it is thundering, and Herbie is panting under my desk. Holly is snoring in her own bed, completely unperturbed. There is nothing that will fix Herbie's fear of thunder, not even hiding in the wardrobe, or cheese. Cheese will compensate for most things in life, but not this.

I have some phosphorus homeopathic spray to spray on his gums, and I learned T-Touch for situations like this, but these days, I've given up. I just go and get on with whatever I'm doing, and he can do what he likes. At the moment, he's drooling on my left foot.

Nodal Inflation.

Just how big can lymph nodes get before they explode or something? Your whole life, you never see a lymph node from one year to the next, then half a dozen come along at once...

Oh, and I meant to mention this article last week: a Radio 4 newsreader has a rare type of lymphoma. It's odd, his first symptoms were the same as Herbie's - a perpetually snotty nose. With Herbie, it wasn't until he started chemo that it went away. Now it's back, but I know it's not a cold, it's part of the lymphoma territory.

The other interesting thing was the man getting odd sensations in his fingers and toes. Herbie's been stumbling occasionally, always the back left foot, for no apparent reason. He'll be trotting along happily, then just miss a beat. After reading the article, I realise it's part of the illness too. The things you learn. That you never intended to know about.

Eight Today!

Herbie, not me. I never thought I would see this day - it was about this time last year when his lymph nodes came up, and the vet said, "Well, it could be his teeth, but I hate to say this, it could be something else..." In the autumn, my whole focus was on Christmas, if only we could make it till then. After Christmas, when the chemo stopped having any effect, I started really to take one day at a time... his eighth birthday was beyond imagining.

He's had some tinned salmon, and a new toy. This morning, the gods of dog-birthdays produced a black and white cat that ran straight towards him instead of away. Herbie sprang to life, the cat realised his mistake and shinned up the nearest tree, and Herbie stood under the tree, wagging his tail, delighted that he almost got a cat for his birthday.

Incidentally, apologies for the time-lag in moderating comments, and I think I accidentally deleted a couple - I've been spammed by some "Make $$$ at home" blogger, or bloggers, who are so desperate for links they're posting spam comments, or whatever the correct terminology is. The only way to keep them out seems to be to set the comments field to "Moderate". I may go back to instant commenting later, once the splogs have gone away :-)

I must post more often - the trouble with these job things is, they suck all your time away. I haven't forgotten everyone, I'm just scrabbling for time to log on.

Made it through!

End of the first week of a new job, and I'm still alive, and more importantly, the dogs are still here. On Tuesday Herbie sicked up grass all over my duvet, so I came home to dried-up green goo all over the bed, and on Wednesday Holly shredded newspaper, but today Dad left the dogs most of a dish of moussaka, so this evening they were happy, and barrel-shaped.

Herbie's nodes are huge, and I keep asking myself, how can he survive? The oncologist warned me this would happen, but he said timings are anyone's guess. I've just found out about Cole, and my thoughts are with her family at this sad time.

Surviving Separation Anxiety

First day in the new job, and I managed (just) to survive without the dogs all day. My father comes up at lunchtime to let them out. He came twice today - the first time, it was beginning to snow, and both dogs looked out of the front door, then bolted upstairs and refused to come off their beds. Mid-afternoon he tried again, this time with a packet of tongue in his pocket, and was able to lure them out and slam the front door shut.

The new job seems fine, the people are lovely, so fingers crossed.

Dumbstruck Wednesday

... but not for long. Today was going to be a day for fluffy photos of well-chewed Easter chickies, or the strange crop-circle effect Holly's been having on the lawn, but instead I've found a soap-box and fully intend to stand on it.

Dogs Today magazine has just published a two-page rant about greyhounds, illustrated with a drawing of a young boy saying "Daddy, what's a greyhound?" The article advocates treating all greyhounds as livestock, and then wiping the breed out, because they are apparently the biggest killers of other animals in the known universe, and their mere presence on this earth offends the writer of the article. Even the tabloid press, writing of children killed by Rottweilers, haven't called for all Rottweilers to be euthanased, but only to be kept under control. It's therefore particularly alarming to see a vet, who in theory should be able to keep a clear head, calling for a breed to be wiped out just because she's had a bad day at the office.

The editor of the magazine has been swift to disown the vet's views, and says she didn't read the article before it went to print. Oh-kayyy. Nice to see responsible journalism is alive and well... any chance of the magazine trying to undo any of the damage it's just caused? The irony is, the first half of the magazine is full of the plight of Staffies, abandoned in their thousands for being a bull breed, the victim of media scare stories.

OK, I'm going to take a lot of deep breaths now, and try and take up some form of meditation.