Today marks the 75th anniversary of the atomic bomb being dropped on Hiroshima, which is a reminder that there are worse things than Covid 19. I remember the date as it was also our wire haired dachshund’s birthday. Obviously she was born much later. The fact that we continue to manufacture and stockpile nuclear weapons, and some regimes have made it clear they are happy to deploy them, is also a reminder how callous and cruel human beings can be. Much of the time animals are much better company. Not that our dachshund was angelic. Like most of her breed she was stubborn and opinionated. A big dog in a small disguise.
Yesterday I rang the vet practice to make an appointment for MasterB’s boosters and annual check up. The receptionist exclaimed that she loved his name, and then referred to him as an older animal. Older? MasterB? No one has told him. He may be in his eleventh year but he still thinks he’s a youngster, a rather large kitten. But her words made me blink and wonder how many more years I have with him. Last year the vet pronounced him to be in perfect shape, perfect health, to have a perfect coat, to be simply perfect in every way. I had to agree. Now I just want him to stay that way.
I stayed awake too late, reading my book, This Must Be The Place by Maggie O’Farrell. Unfortunately my internal clock did not allow me the luxury of a sleep in, so today I am fairly heavy eyed. I spoke to Stuart about das Boot, and have pencilled a trip to the marina in my diary for next Thursday. Stuart also said he may know someone who would be interested. I am cautiously hopeful. Will this next visit be my last? Who knows. I’ll probably stay a few days, see if I can gather blackberries, maybe sloes, and do a couple of things locally.
Celia is back from Essex and we met up this afternoon over a mint tea. MasterB was pleased to see his recent playmate and food provider. How pleased Celia was to see all my holiday snaps I am not so sure. But I’ll take a risk and finish this post with another selection.
Isobel (and Cat)'s Blog 
Ever thought of retiring to NI?
I agree with you about animals in dresses but Westie Boy seems born to wear a onesie.
I have, but it would be to Belfast not the country. It was funny about Westie Boy and his pyjamas. The men in the family were desperate to get him out of them, despite the vet advising he keep wearing them to protect his healing wounds. He wasn’t bothered by them all. I think he looks like a gentleman Edwardian bather.
Good to see where you stayed and your walking route. Also whetted my appetite even more for the Seamus Heaney HomePlace, and the Linen Museum looks interesting too.
I’ve just been in northwest Essex, and enjoyed Saffron Walden, and a return to Kettles Yard in Cambridge. I was pleased the atmosphere there remains, even after the refurbishment and a new cafe. At the moment you can only go round in a guided tour, but the plan is to allow wandering and sitting again post-Covid. Our guide was very good, and encouraged questions, with our eleven year old grandson asking lots. Then lunch by the river before being punted by our son past the colleges in hot sunshine – Cambridge at its best.
Humans have succeeded a bit in living longer and more comfortably.
… aaaand … that’s all. No real improvement in kindness or empathy.
Allas!