RIP Honky Duck

We had a sudden death in the family, but not the one I was dreading. Honky Duck has honked his last honk. He was a short-lived Christmas present for Holly. Honky Pheasant is three years old now, and a little threadbare, so I thought a duck in the same vein might be fun. Holly didn't think so.

Herbie's lump hasn't been to the vet. The snow and ice a fortnight ago were too dangerous, I couldn't drive the two miles to the vet. She very kindly said over the phone what she'd have said to me in person - if it's less than a centimetre, leave it be for now. So I'm just keeping an eye.

Happy New Year everyone, and hope you all last a bit better than poor Honky.

Merry Christmas

We've had loads of snow, no way will this all melt before Christmas, so it's a white Christmas for us. Herbie's staying snuggled up in bed, but Holly is out hunting - so many footprints to sniff, so little time. Happy seasonal whatsits to everyone!

Lumpy knee

As if there wasn't enough to worry about, Herbie has something that isn't quite a scab, and isn't a tick either, a small round lump just under the skin, about the size of a piece of lead shot. The vet can't see us till Friday morning, because it's not an emergency. I never tell them that things are urgent unless I'm pretty darn sure, but I worry anyway.

Snow predicted for tomorrow night, and the following night, and the one after that. I've got one new book to read, thanks to Borders closing down and everything is now half price, but it's sad to see the empty shelves, the last few books huddled together like refugees. It was once the bright future of book-selling, but now... It's my own fault for buying books from Amazon. RIP Borders UK.

Dude, Where's My Car?

The car's been out of action for a few days, the brake warning light came on, threatening dire things if I didn't stop immediately. Herbie's been in a sulk all weekend. The weekends are for car trips, and he was quite annoyed that I was deliberately depriving him of his outings.

Fortunately the garage couldn't find anything wrong, and think the switch may have become waterlogged with all the rain we've been having. But it'll be Saturday before Herbie gets another car ride.

First Ice

Slippy this morning, and Herbie refused to walk down the hill. Last night's rain had frozen in the night, and though the ice-flowers on my car were pretty, it was treacherous underfoot. We scuttled back home and had an extra helping of breakfast.

The arboretum has now shut for the winter (presumably to let the grass grow back), so Herbie's going to have to get used to walks up and down the hill close to home. Right now he's curled up on the red dog bed, while the stove pumps out heat, and Neil Oliver talks about Scottish history on TV. Holly has turned a dog bed and a duvet into an intricate nest. We are settled in for the night.