She is returned to me! I can scarce describe the rapture I feel.
My partner was brought home from hospital by her parents during the afternoon of the day before yesterday. We had a joyful reunion, but she was too tired for much and soon retired to bed. I could not believe my happiness and kept having to go and check that she was really there again. I and my partner would like to express our sincere thanks to all the friends who left messages of support and goodwill. It is impossible to overstate how much we appreciated these.
As you may comprehend from the urgent nature of my partner's hospital admittance, her life was despaired of. She remains very poorly. We were getting along splendidly - she went for a hospital check-up this morning and all was pronounced to be well. But alas! After our nap this afternoon (I felt it my duty to snuggle up under the duvet to keep my partner warm. See? Not a single thought for my own comfort.), we found a message on the answerphone. The doctor has asked my partner to return to the ward on Tuesday next week - he urgently needs to see her as soon as possible. He wouldn't say why over the 'phone. Oh BOTTOMS. My partner says that it will be alright, it is probably nothing major, but I cried piteously for half an hour after hearing this. The poor girl has already had five days in a hospital bed attached to a drip - isn't that enough? But she says I'm not to upset myself so I will be brave. She says that if I am well then that will be enough for us both.
I have to say that I did do quite well out of her absence. Maisie felt sorry for me, so she gave me a special supper every night. Shepherd's Pie, roasted beef, smoked ham - oh yes, Jasper ate well. Heh heh. In fact, my partner rumbled me straight away. She had only been home for about twenty minutes before she shot me a sideways glance and said "You have put on a bit of weight, Jasper." Perhaps my girth is a little more comfortable than formerly, but I'm not fat - there's just more of me to love. I'm better value for money now! My partner says that she is going to slim me down and, true to her word, she wrapped herself up in woollens and took me out squirrel-hunting this afternoon. She wasn't able to keep up with me, but I had some good sport and didn't venture too far from her side. In fact, I am reluctant to leave her at all now, as I am frightened that she may be taken from me again. She says I am her 'little limpet'. But it is kindly meant and I notice that she definitely cuddles me more than formerly (and that's a LOT of cuddles).
I didn't get up to much while my partner was in hospital. I was given one of my partner's favourite cardigans to cuddle and that helped a bit but it wasn't the same. Maisie did her best but I just couldn't get on without my partner - it was like having a leg cut off. One thing that DID occur, however, involved one of the trio of wretched cats that have been blighting my life of late. On the third day of my partner's absence, Maisie was trying to divert me with a game in her back garden. It could not engage my spirits and I just lay on the grass, crying bitterly. It was felt that I would be happier at home with my partner's cardie, so Maisie opened her back gate and began to walk me across the road to my own house, directly opposite hers. As I exited her garden, I turned to the left and saw that the most benign of the Three Unwise Men, the Burmese (whose presence among the band of irritants, it may be recalled, always surprised me somewhat as he generally seemed a rather peaceable fellow), was lying in his favoured spot of Maisie's driveway. His light-blue eyes spoke nothing but concern, but I was mightily annoyed to have been spotted by one who would use my misery to taunt me, so I raised my head high and marched proudly home. Later that afternoon, I heard some scratching outside and peeped out of the front window. The Burmese was busily putting something at the edge of the front flower-border by the path to my front door. When Maisie came to collect me for my afternoon walk, I broke from her side and went to have a look. I found a raggedly torn piece of cardboard, originating from a box of dried cat food. It had been weighted down against the winds by a small pebble. On the reverse of the cardboard was scratched, in thin, jerky writing, "SORREEY". I looked up to the top of the cul-de-sac, where dwell the three cats in the top house, and saw a flash of blue eyes and creamy-grey fur as the Burmese withdrew his watching gaze around the corner. I swallowed a lump in my throat and hot little tears pricked my eyes as I went on my way. I remembered to bark my thanks in the direction of the cats' garden as I passed by.
I think that this represents a bit of a split in the trio, actually. For, the following day, I saw the most offensive two of the three cats preparing to bestow one of their songs on the little Dachshund that lives two doors up from me. I don't really know this diminutive fellow - I don't even know his name, though we've both lived here for years. He isn't really allowed out in the street, as he tends to get over-excited and runs into the road without looking. It's a very quiet street, but this is never a good idea. Plus, he always overdoes his excitement and it all gets a bit much for him. Still, he's happy enough. I listened to the cats beginning their offensive song - it was just as revolting as the ones they sang at me. I could not help a wry smile though. The one thing I do know with any certainty about this little Dachshund is that he is almost totally deaf. He was born like that, apparently, but is happy in his quiet little world. So those cats can sing their rude poems and songs at him until their throats are red raw, but they won't trouble the Dachie one little bit. Hehehe - sing up boys, sing up...