Monday, December 11, 2006

The lights are on ...

but there's no-one at home.

When Harvey and I walk down to the playing-fields at tea-time at this time of year, we notice a house that always has its lights on. The curtains are open and there is never anyone in the living-room. If someone had a nosey disposition, it could drive them mad.

Speaking of which, Husband took Harvey for a check-up on Saturday. The vet was surprised to see he was still with us (no, not Husband). She said the nerves in his back region are going, which explains the trouble getting up, the tripping and other little local difficulties. But, hey, he's happy. After all, why shouldn't he be? He doesn't have to clean up after himself.

The playing-fields were more like a bog. In places the water came above the foot of my wellie boot. Ee, we've 'ad a bit of rain lately, tha knows. (I don't know what accent that is supposed to be mimicking. Somewhere oop north I think.

3 comments:

Welshcakes Limoncello said...

Hi, Liz. I had a dog called Sandy, who lived to be 18, and he had that trouble in his back legs, too. But, like Harvey, he was loved and happy. When he died I honestly thought I was going to die too.
Simi and I are rooting for you, Harvey xxx

Anonymous said...

Harvey's a real trouper, bless his heart. Someone in our family had a dog who lived to be 21, this after a flamboyant lifetime of adventures such as eating glass, swallowing fish hooks, eating the interior out of what was once a very nice boat, and ... setting her dog house on fire.

Anonymous said...

Pete. That's what it sounds like. And I'm getting to be like him now. Yet, put on the spot, I cannot tell you what it is I say that makes me sounds as if I come from Oldham via Hull (that's Pete).