I had something of a restless night plagued by dreams in which I was constantly justifying why I didn’t want to run a marathon. What was that all about?
I woke to find Fudge at the bottom of the bed wrapped in his blanket. He hates being hot, but if he’s not wrapped up he shivers because he has lost so much weight. I left him sleeping, made toast and watched an episode of “Superstore” before peering into the Internet. I sent out some birthday wishes, and on seeing pretty much nothing at all had happened overnight, taking care to let sleeping dogs lie, I got ready for the off.
It was really cold as I walked to my car; a lot colder than it had been when I took Sid out (for a tiddle) half an hour before.
As I drove to work the pundits on the radio were talking about the lateral flow tests for COVID-19 that so many of us are doing every day. Every positive result is confirmed by a proper test, and the lateral flow tests are eighty-five per cent accurate. Personally I would laugh out loud at any test which is less than ninety-nine point nine per cent accurate, but what do I know about laboratory diagnostics?
Pausing only briefly in High Halden for Munzee reasons I was soon at Tesco in Pembury where I saw a ghost… I say “I saw a ghost” – there was definitely something odd going on. As I was perusing the beer aisle there was suddenly a loud smashing noise behind be and I was sprayed with some liquid. I turned to see a smashed champagne bottle, and a woman who was adamant that she hadn’t dropped the bottle. She was insistent that the bottle fell of its own accord. Thinking “yeah, whatever” and mentally composing a rather disparaging description of the incident for this very blog I wandered round to the jam department. As I reached for a jar of marmalade so another jar actually jumped of the shelf in front of me (and smashed). It really did jump on its own. Spooky, eh?
Work was work. I did that which I couldn’t avoid. I left a little early to collect Fudge from the vet. After three days on fluids his blood urea is still off of the scale. The fuids have done very little, and even if they had, his kidney function is nowhere near enough. He’s still got no appetite, and is still clearly in pain.
The vet wasn’t at all hopeful. She said to take him home and take him back for the last time in the morning.
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