Unreliable Blogging

It's the naughty step for me, for not blogging at least weekly as I'd promised myself. It's been another awkward couple of weeks, major repairs to car, leaking tap, winter vomiting bug (norovirus) courtesy of my co-workers, and just the general run of worries. It's OK now.

Herbie is wrapped in his duvet like a little greyhound parcel while Holly lies in the yellow cardboard wreckage of a biscuit box. We recycle - when we reach the end of a box of bone-shaped biscuits, she shreds the box into little pieces, then I gather up the pieces and put them in the fire. I just haven't got round to the gathering bit yet.

I've entered lots of competitions, and today I won a whole pound (£1) from my toilet paper - as a get rich quick scheme, it's not entirely working...

Fixed

This week my leaking roof has been fixed, and the leaking kitchen tap has been fixed. I can now close the bathroom door properly too. (When you live on your own, you stop worrying about things like the bathroom door not being quite private enough, but you worry more about roofs and things.) Money can buy you happiness, whatever anyone says.

Herbie is lying at a weird angle, his body wrapped up in his bedding but his neck halfway across the floor so that he can stare into the stove. (The TV means nothing to him, but the fire is worth watching.) Holly has scraped her bed into a lump and is trying to bury her head inside it. Someone I work with joked about having ordered his box full of straw, and at the weekend he would climb into it and stay there till spring. I think the dogs are almost ready to do the same.

Antibiotics Again

Herbie's picked up yet another respiratory infection. His paws and ears go all cold, and the tiniest bit of exertion makes him pant like a steam train. Fortunately the antibiotics kick in fast, and after two days of not eating, he's back to wolfing his meals down.

I've caught the comping bug, and have been glued to the competitions forum at moneysavingexpert.com. It stops me doing anything less/more productive, so this may or may not be a good thing. So far I've won £20 courtesy of Walkers' crisps (I now own enough bags of crisps to see me through to Christmas). Is it because I is bored? Probably.

Cold cold cold

... and we are all snuggled up in front of the cast iron stove. A leak in the roof means that Steve the builder is going to come and take part of the roof off to fix it. Not looking forward to that bit, but we need to be dry this winter. Herbie has just rummaged through my bag to find the remains of my lunch, still in its little Tupperware box. I have let him have the equivalent of a couple of spoonfuls of rice, and he is so proud of himself for scavenging it, rather than being given it in his foodbowl.

Half Past Ten

On Saturday, Herbie reached the grand old age of ten and a half exactly (or 10.30, as an elderly, and now more than a little absent-minded, neighbour described him). He's slowed down a lot over the last couple of months, and doesn't want to walk far in the mornings, but for a dog who's 10.30, he's doing OK.

In Pink - and In Disgrace

Holly is all snuggly and warm in her new nightwear. However it will be a while before she gets anything else new - I've just had to pay a vet's bill (or half of one) for a neighbour's cat.

We were walking up our driveway at dusk on Friday, returning from a walk, with Holly still on the lead. Suddenly she lurched sideways at the hedge, and then stepped back dragging a cat by one back leg. I grabbed Holly's collar and made her drop it, and the cat ran off. I put a note through the neighbour's letterbox to say "if your cat has bitemarks on its leg, I'm sorry but it was us". Saturday the neighbour turns up with a vet bill for x-rays and painkillers - her elderly frail cat with a number of medical conditions now has a broken pelvis. The vet didn't think the cat would survive a general anaesthetic, but he thinks the pelvis will heal OK if the cat rests up.

Fortunately the neighbour was able to say "It was cats and dogs being cats and dogs" - she can't keep her cat out of my garden, and I can't guarantee my dogs won't lunge at cats hiding in the hedge, so we agreed to go halves on the bill. Even so. Holly had better not demolish any more cats. We were very lucky the cat survived.

A Mixed Week

Today at work we found out the details of the restructure - it looks like there are five jobs for eight of us. Ho hum. And so it goes.

Herbie is very slow this week. It has rained a lot, and he's stiff when it's damp. Holly's new winter pyjama top has arrived. It's pink with sheep on it. I always swore I wouldn't end up the kind of person who dressed her dogs in fluffy pink clothing. Must have been lying to myself. Holly is rather puzzled by the concept of pullovers, as opposed to coats with velcro straps, but I have to say she looks pretty darn cute. There will be photos at the weekend.

One of those weeks

... when everything seems to break down at once. First I was carless for several days, which could have been a disaster, or very expensive, until the garage kindly lent me an elderly car to get to work in. I think they mostly did it to stop me phoning twice a day.

Then I couldn't get online at all. Given that my tax return is due 30 September, this was another disaster in the making. As of today, I have a shiny new router, shiny new phone-point, and I've done my tax return. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that everything else continues to work. It's nice to have an upgrade on the router, and I wouldn't have bothered if things hadn't actually broken down - I'm used to maintaining a series of technological antiques, rather than being at the cutting edge. The BT engineer looked at my set-up and said, "Yes, we do occasionally see one of these - did the help-desk have to look everything up online?" Er, yes, actually. "You'll find with an upgrade, the help desk are actually able to help." Well, that will be a novelty.

The dogs liked the BT man a lot, and Holly was convinced he had come round specially to play with her. It was rather sad when she finally realised he hadn't, and she sunk down onto her bed with her face on her paws.

Happy 4th Gotcha Day

Tomorrow it will be four years since I picked Holly up at a service station off the A1. She had been in a council pound for six weeks and her time was well and truly up. If I hadn't said I could take her, there wouldn't have been any options left. Via a complicated chain of people and events, she ended up with me, skinny, wormy and semi-feral. (Er, she was, not me - think I need to do something about that last sentence.)

She still has her semi-feral moments, particularly when she spots a cat, but she's considerably chunkier. On the plus side, she had no expectations about living in a house, so when Herbie told her what to expect ("Oi, that's MY bed"), she went along with it quite amiably. Four years later, she's still here, still stealing tissues to shred, and still the sweetest little weasel-face.

Autumn Already

Judging by the berries in the hedgerows, it's going to be another harsh winter. The haws, sloes and elderberries hang in heavy clusters, and this morning we met the grit-men, leaving piles of rock salt in little heaps along the roadside. We're on top of a steep hill here, and at every bend in the hill there is now a neat pyramid of salt.

Herbie's recovering from his dental, and no, he can't whistle through the gaps in his teeth. Holly probably could though - the middle two of her bottom front teeth were worn almost to stubs when she came to me, aged almost two. The vet said she'd probably been chewing the wire of a kennel to achieve that effect, out of sheer boredom and frustration.

No teefies

I've been trying to sneak up on Herbie to show you that he's got no front teeth any more, but he keeps catching me, and rolling over so that I can't get a close shot. The gums over his front teeth had receded quite badly, so his little incisors had to go. He also lost the carnassial on his lower left side. Now, when he's happy, his jaw vibrates but his teeth don't chatter. It's sad. But his teeth aren't brown any more, and that's a huge improvement.

Now, every evening, I have to try and remove any food from his teeth with a cotton bud dipped in chlorhexidine mouthwash. When the vet first suggested it, I thought "Touting for more business, are we? Bowel surgery next time?" Herbie has a long history of eating toothbrushes, tubes of toothpaste, trying to swallow the little rubber finger brush (but fortunately, although it went down his windpipe, he coughed it up again. ) Things I have learned from brushing his teeth: aluminium from metal toothpaste tubes will dissolve in hydrochloric acid. Dogs' stomachs contain concentrated hydrochloric acid. And also, greyhounds are big enough that a snapped-off toothbrush head will pass straight through. Things I wish I had not had to learn: see above.

Phew

He's back, minus six teeth. His remaining teeth are all sparkly white. There was a tricky moment, apparently, when the vet was trying to anaesthetise him, so they ended up taking an x-ray of his lungs. No lung metastases, which is good news. Herbie's had breakfast, and a little potter, but he's feeling a bit sore. Still, he's back in one piece, which is the main thing, and I think the vet is almost as relieved as I am.

Teefies

Herbie goes to have his teeth cleaned next week - he may lose a few more teeth. When he's happy, his teeth chatter, and it saddens me to think that I may not hear that sound again, but it is so beyond time that his teeth were cleaned... Some greyhounds have difficult teeth, and Herbie has needed his teeth cleaning every 9-10 months, even with daily toothbrushing. Holly, on the other hand, has been with me for four years now and not needed one dental. Similar diet, better teeth.

Tail Ends is Ending

We're all still here, but an era is drawing to a close at Tailends, the greyhound hospice in Devon. One of the founders, Angela, died earlier this year, and her partner has decided not to take in any new dogs, but to let the existing cohort live out their days. Given that most of them came to Tailends on their last legs, that may not be very long. They have done amazing work for the last couple of decades.

I am going through the usual summer lull at work, and am very bored. Fortunately a kind friend has sent me a boxed set of Flight of the Conchords, so at least I can hum silly songs to myself. I'm very much enjoying the dead-pan New Zealand take on life in New York.

And finally, a sad farewell to Soly, my sister's Maine Coon cat. Something got him, out in the fields. He died out hunting, which is possibly how he would have wanted to go, but we were all expecting him to last a bit longer than he did. Rest in peace, Sol.

Dentist Time

Herbie's eating again, but his teeth are in a terrible state. My vet, this time, said she might be feeling brave enough to tackle them. Having spent 18 months thinking he could go at any moment, she, like my previous vet, had been reluctant to put him through a potentially risky operation. Now his teeth are really really bad, despite toothbrushing and mouthwashes.

So. Huge decision. We're going to do it when Lucy is back from her holiday. There's always a risk, with general anaesthetics, but this time... not going to think about it too much. Instead I'm going to go put dry trousers on, Herbie's just wiped his face all over what I'm currently wearing.#

Thanks for all the good wishes. Herbie seems to react badly to almost everything these days.

Drug reaction

Still here, but it's been a difficult week. Herbie was prescribed Previcox last week, to help with his stiff back end, and on his third dose a reaction set in - diarrhoea with strings of fresh red blood. OK, I thought, a soothing diet. Fine for a couple of days, then off his food completely.

Fortunately, just as panic was setting in, and he wouldn't eat anything with painkillers concealed inside so he was reluctant to go for walks, and I was worrying about quality of life - he decided he would like some yoghurt. And some of Holly's food. Tonight he ate boiled mince and then realised that while he didn't want my cooked blackcurrants, he would definitely like some custard. It's not something I'd recommend as part of a balanced canine diet, but for a dog that's been turning his face away from all food... I might even make him some more tomorrow.

End of June

... and Herbie has picked up a little. I'm lurching along from day to day. I took some time out last Sunday to go to the Jerry Green annual open day, and Holly had her first go at some agility equipment. She hated it, so there went that idea.

There was a large German shepherd/husky cross in the end kennel who looked at me then said "Mow" in exactly the same tone of voice our old cat used to use when he wanted you to know he was a poor old neglected cat who'd been left out in the cold. It was as if he was saying "Get me out!" but I can't. I don't have the right life for that breed. I hope he finds his family soon.

Midsummer

... and he's not doing so well today. He's eating, but he hasn't wanted to walk anywhere much the last couple of days. It's sunny, but it's not baking hot. It's not a good sign.

I found the blog of someone else who's done CV247, which worked OK on Herbie, in that the tumours stopped growing while he was taking it. Heidi is 14 and has been taking CV247 for a year or so. It's nice to hear of older dogs doing well.

Everything at work is up in the air, yet again. New government, change of funding, rules, etc, and we were due to shed a few people over the summer. The number of posts going is increasing, and the latest view is that 30% of staff will have to go over the next 3 years. As I'm not a frontline worker, it's not looking good. Budget tomorrow. I suspect baked-bean manufacturers may do well, looks like the entire nation will be living off beans on toast for the foreseeable. I know this sounds Eeyorish, maybe I need a holiday.

We have been reading

... the Stay at Home Bookworm blog:http://stayathomebookworm.blogspot.com/ I love finding recommendations from someone who reads the types of book I like.

Uh oh - I feel an expensive trip to Amazon coming on. If only it were possible to block websites yourself, to stop yourself going there. Of all my vices, the bookspending one is one of the least under control.

Hot at Home

... and I'm trying to swap Herbie and Holly from winter walk-times to summer walk-times. There's always a tough couple of weekends when I have to persuade them that we don't have a walk at lunch-time, it's too hot, and we don't do evening walks until late.

I cracked today - every time I went into the hallway, the two of them rushed out and looked at their leads meaningfully. In the end I couldn't stand it any longer, and took them to the arboretum. When I got there, the lady at the gate said, "It's quite hot for a dog-walk." Yes, I know - would you like to explain it to these two? We had ten minutes of panting and snuffling, and then we went back home. I'd like to think I've made my point, but I suspect we'll have the same routine tomorrow, until I learn to stand firm.