A Pollicle Dog*

Well. It's the last bit of lavender.

This is not what it was going to be.

This morning all plans were off owing to the dog being really unwell.

The good news is that, for now at least, he's rallied. (Or I couldn't be writing this.)

Despite every rational effort on my part I spent most of the morning in bits.
However, taking on a cat-like nine lives status seems to be his forte.
I'm not sure how many times he's been at death's door in the past but it must be nearly nine.

At times like this (and times when you have to miss holidays abroad because there's no one to look after them) you wonder who in their right mind would let an animal into their lives. And then you think of the total unconditional love they offer... And you wonder how you could possibly fill the giant gap they would leave...

Don't say anything kind or I'll be off again. (I wish I didn't do that.)

*Poor little dog, according to TS Eliot's unpublished poem to his 4 yr old nephew. Along with 'dear little' or 'jellicle' cats.