Monday - slog up Headlands in the hope that the wind and rain will make the two evils want to come home after the first hundred yards, Totally forget a Weimaraner does not do sensible! With every step I take I get the sensation that old Lucifer below is trying to grab my boots and drag me down into the mire that is the fallow fields at the moment.
Am rewarded by Tilly rolling in not only rotten potatoes but something so dead I did not want to get too close just in case it attached itself to me Alien like. Tried to wipe Tilly down with Flash wipes before she made my van smell
Tuesday - went on the beach to avoid the rotten potato and dead thing rolling problem. Used Flash wet wipes on Tilly to try and get rid of the dead fish and bird poo smell obtained by rolling on the aforementioned before she stank my van out
Wednesday - staggering along sand dunes to avoid rotten potato, something dead, bird poo and dead fish rolling problem. Used Flash wipes to try and rid of rabbit guts and dog vomit (don't even ask) smell obtained by rolling on the aforementioned before she stank my van out.
Thursday - the weather is so foul that madam decides she does not want to get out of bed, ours that is not hers. I think the above picture explains her general opinion of my attempts to drag her out, buy drag her out I did.
Back down the beach. Tilly nearly gets me a telling off some observers of the awful weather in the comfort of their car by running straight off the beach slip way and doing a splat dog impression on the sand approx two to three feet below. Pretended that it's not only my dogs that can't hear in the wind and rain, but me also as I am lacking the time and patience to explain this is normal behaviour for Tilly and I gave up having kittens a long time ago at her attempts to break her neck.
Five minutes into my attempt at doing the horizontal Time Warp against the elements, Tilly decides to about turn and run back to the van as the rain is disagreeable to her today, which sort of makes me wonder what was wrong with Monday, Tuesday and Wednesdays rain?!
Friday - Vet day for Hector. Only speed once, cut up two taxi's and run one amber light (they go amber before red in Jersey - not amber before green) and give one disgruntled driver on his mobile the bird (the raised finger to those wondering) before safely reaching vet hospital.
Good news, after fine needle aspirations his lumps are confirmed as nothing to worry about. I knew that as Les told me they die with them rather than die of them, but hey I would rather know before they kill me of stress wondering if they are nothing. Only down side is that his eyes are deteriorating due to age. They are also as scratched as hell due to his hunting capabilities. My vet picks him up to put him on the table so he can give his undercarriage a good looking at and tells me that Hector is one of only four big dogs he would do that too without the worry of a bite and two of those are his - just the little things like this make you burst with pride.
Hector confirms the vet's opinion that he is super fit by dragging me out of the surgery head first resulting in the double doors being given a Glasgow kiss on passing.
