I have taken my last swim of the season. Officially, that is. I might condescend to take a dip in a warm spell, but the weather grows colder by the day and the shock of plunging into the river is often too much for Little Jasper to cope with. I have perfected a way of walking principally on my front legs, with my rear raised up (thus keeping Little Jasper out of the icy waters), so that I may still paddle at times, but I think it's time to hang up my towel for this year.
My partner is not very happy at the moment. She had to go to the hospital this morning and was told that she needs more treatment, so she is a bit cross. She was discharged from the hospital, as she thought, for the last time back in June but now has to start going back again. As if this wasn't enough, she learned at this evening's play rehearsal that BC is now NOT going to be present for the Thursday or Friday performances, although he MIGHT try and make it to the Saturday performance after his sporting fixture. Oh dear. This really doesn't bode well for my partner. I think she is on the verge of sending him a text message. I will counsel her to take advice from Dolores before she does. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I'd be pleased at all this, but how can I rest while the light of my life is in such pain? Dammit all again.
By way of a distraction from these torments, I decided to seek out the hedgepig to consult further with him on the matter of hibernation. My partner spotted him in the garden last night, but I was asleep. I ventured out alone earlier this evening, while my partner was rehearsing, and gently approached him. He nodded to me. I proceeded to explain the difficulties that I am experiencing in nest construction, fat build-up, and the procurement of cookery magazines. He stared at me in increasing bewilderment and shook his spiky little head as I finished speaking. "You great nit." he said, much to my astonishment. "You house-dwellers don't do it! It's only us, out here in the hedges. Have you REALLY been trying to hibernate?" "No." I replied, uneasily. "You have, haven't you?" he grinned, a little twinkle appearing in his eye. "Wait 'til I tell the lads about this one!" A bizarre high-pitched sound told my ears that the prickly little upstart was laughing at me. "GET OUT OF MY GARDEN!" I roared, but he was under the gate and gone before I'd even begun shouting, the tinkling sound of his laughter pursuing him as he scuttled back into the hedgerow.
There will be no further mention of hibernation in this house.