Good King Wenceslas Looked Out

... and thought, "Enough with the snow already".

Merry Christmas, everyone. May you and your loved ones enjoy the festive season.

Three Years

It was three years ago this week that Herbie had his last chemo treatment. When we went back after Christmas, I explained that the tumour had in fact grown, and this rescue protocol, his second, was losing its effect. The vet said the only thing we hadn't tried was potentially risky, and given that Herbie had suffered side effects from his last chemo, he wasn't sure it was safe.

It was such a shock to be told that we were out of options. The vet didn't mention survival times without treatment, but the books I had weren't optimistic. Still, three years later, the boy is still here, still eating and running around, just with a lot of tumours. I sometimes think that if he had a shorter nose, the tumours would have outgrown his head, but fortunately he's a greyhound. I've tried to do the right things with his diet, even though he is now standing by the bookcase which has the dog-biscuit tin on top, with what I call his "Bohemian Rhapsody" expression ("I'm just a poor boy from a poor family"), trying to convey to me that he could in fact die of starvation only half an hour after his evening meal if not given an immediate biscuit. Nice try.

He might be lumpy, but he's still here.

Worst. Winter. Ever.

Snowed in for a week, roads not ploughed, two feet of snow, nothing gritted. Finally got out at the weekend. Thank the Lord I have remote access to the office computer system, so could work from home, but even so, cabin fever was setting in.

Now it's starting to melt, everything's icy so the dogs won't walk, it hurts their paws and they slide everywhere. Holly's bouncing off the walls with boredom. The river Ouse in York is frozen over (and it's a big, fast-flowing river). I never thought I'd say this, but I might want to live in a town again.