26 September 2019 (Thursday) - Ultrasound Scanning

Having seen every hour of the night I gave up trying to sleep. Over a bowl of granola I watched more “Nightflyers” which kept me amused for forty minutes, then I peered into the Internet. Some petty rants I read last night had continued.
People were complaining about how poorly supported the local cinema is, and were afraid it might close if people don’t start using it. I *think* the last time I went to the cinema was in February 2018 when my seat cost me over a tenner. I had to sit through half an hour of adverts and put up with the Great Unwashed burping and farting all the way through the film. For the same money (actually slightly less) I can (and do) get a month’s worth of Netflix, and for the price of "er indoors TM"’s ticket we get a month’s worth of Amazon Prime on the telly. Would losing the cinema be such a loss? I don’t really think so.
One friend was banging on about how hard up she was. Having come back from a two-month tour of Europe she’s now complaining that she’s so hard up some friend of hers has had to pay the next two terms of her daughter’s school fees (about twelve thousand pounds). Personally I know I will never afford a two-month tour of Europe, and it was my experience that state-run schools were free.

I put on my new shirt and new trousers and (leaving "er indoors TM" and the dogs asleep) set off towards work through another murky morning. As I peered through the torrential rain the pundits on the radio were talking about the Prime Minister's appearance in Parliament yesterday. Having had the worst slating imaginable from the supreme court he was unrepentant and insulting.
There was also talk of the Duke of Cambridge officiating at the official naming ceremony of the Royal Research Ship "Sir David Attenborough". There had been a public vote to name the ship. The winning suggestion, “Boaty McBoatface" wasn't used for the simple reason that it was a silly idea. No one's quibbled about this *because* it was a silly idea. 
You might think the same reasoning might be applied to Brexit and the Prime Minister...

I spent much of the day worrying about Fudge. He’d been allowed none of our dinner last night (and he loves fish). He’d been allowed nothing to eat or drink this morning. "er indoors TM" had left him with the vet at nine o’clock this morning. Today was ultrasound day. Having established that his kidneys aren’t right, it was time to have a look at them.
We were expecting to pick him up sometime in the late afternoon; we had a phone call at ten o’clock. All was done and could we collect him as he was being rather shouty and disruptive.
The ultrasound had showed nothing structurally wrong with the kidneys; no growths or stones. So far all the signs seem to be pointing to chronic kidney disease. The vets have directed us to the website of the International Renal interest Society and want to see him again in two weeks’ time. In the meantime, we’ll look at getting food which is low in phosphorus, protein, and sodium. And cheese is out (he won’t like that). The vet has advised some food to get. It ain’t cheap, and I bet he won’t like it.

I came home from work to an empty house. "er indoors TM" had taken the dogs to the park. Treacle had been her usual self; the one who is supposedly oh-so-poorly had chased squirrels and then porked several other dogs.
When they came home he charged into the house like a whirlwind, wolfed his dinner and then destroyed both his and Treacle’s new toys. Other than a shaved patch on his side, you wouldn’t think there was anything amiss.

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