We've been staying home. No DIY, no visits to superstores, and only a couple of brief visits to relatives. Yesterday we were pretty much confined to quarters by the annual Tractor Run for charity. All winter, people have been tinkering with their vintage Massey Fergussons in preparation, and yesterday was the big day. I live right by the start of the run, and a couple of hundred vintage tractors chugging in a 20-mile circuit round your village means you have to leave early, and stay out till dark - or stay home.
Herbie has had his first trip to the vet in over four months. He has a histiocytoma on his leg. He had one a couple of years ago, and I didn't think you could get them twice, but those good folks on Greytalk have assured me that lighting does strike more than once . The vet was pleased with how well he was looking. "I was dreading this visit, when I saw your name on the list. I thought it was going to be one of those difficult ones. But he's kept the weight on really well." I think that might be code for "Your dog is fat".
There was an elderly man in the waiting room, dogless, trying not to cry, and when he collected his drooping, bleary-eyed dachshund, I could see why. Daxis aren't supposed to be floppy like that. I wanted him and his dog to be OK, but you could tell the vet had said "There's nothing else we can do." It's the worst thing, not having any hope. I am currently hoping Herbie outlives his histiocytoma - they take at least six weeks to clear up - but I have absolutely nothing to base that optimism on.