Sunday, 3 October 2010

Sunday 3 October 2010

I got a bad feeling about this - as The Mighty Boosh's Bollo often says.  Something very strange has happened to me.

The week was proceeding perfectly normally, without sensation.  And then, without warning, on Wednesday night  one of my back legs stopped working.  I got up to take a drink of water and promptly fell over.  With tender expressions of concern, my partner helped my to my paws and supported my body as I drank.  I had to be carried up to bed that night, and carried back down the stairs the following morning.  I felt utterly wretched.  My partner gave me an Ibuprofen tablet, which I accepted, although I didn't wish to eat my normal breakfast.  I was so miserable that I elected to stay in the car, where it was warm and quiet, in preference to accompanying my partner into her office and I didn't move an inch until lunchtime.

Halfway into the day (after my partner had checked on me several times and thoughtfully left me sleeping soundly), Ewan's concerned face appeared at the car window, on my side.
"Jasper!" he cried in panicked tones.  "Are you OK?!"
"Mmmnf...?"  I murmured, coming around slowly and lifting my head.  "Oh, hullo Ewan.  Not feeling too good today, mate.  Just lying low for a bit."
"Oh no!" yelped tender-hearted Ewan.  "Have you taken any cheese for it?!"
"Ummm... not yet."
"Don't think I've got any with me.  I'll go and check."  His face disappeared from the window and I heard him pattering away.  He soon came back.  "No cheese, I'm afraid.  Do you want anything else?  I've got a stick."
"'S'alright Ewan, " I mumbled.  "I'll just stop here."
"D'you want a teddy?" he persisted, "Fizzy's got a teddy.  D'you want to cuddle Fizzy's teddy?"
"Maybe later."
"D'you want some of my chew?  I can get you my chew - d'you want that?"
I heard Fizzy (who was too short to look into the window) talking to Ewan in a low voice.  His worried face reappeared at my window.  "Fizzy says I have to go with her now.  See you later Jazz - hope you feel better soon!"
Fizzy escorted Ewan away, and I settled back to sleep.  I was grateful to Fizzy for restoring my peace - but infinitely more grateful to Ewan, despite all his noise, for his affectionate and whole-hearted endeavours to bring me some relief.

That was not the end of the day's misery, however.  Once at home again, my partner saw me creeping furtively out of our bedchamber and discovered my guilty secret of the past couple of weeks.  I confess it to you now:  I have been urinating in the house, in a particular spot, for some time now - always when my partner is downloading a weemail of her own in the bathroom (the next room along).  My spot of repeated choice has been my partner's pile of freshly washed and dried clothing.  Even as I type, the washing machine is issuing its comforting hum as the affected clothing is re-laundered.

I expected to be punished.  Whenever I have made a mistake before, it has been after my requests to go outside have gone accidentally unheeded by my partner.  I think what made this worse was that I had not asked to go beforepaw.  I had merely accompanied my partner to the bathroom and then sneaked away to the clothes-pile.  My partner, however, expressed tender concern and gave me a warm, lasting cuddle.  When I moved to give her a little kiss, I saw that she was silently crying.

I understood why.  It was our first shocking dose of a brutal reality - the reality that, sooner rather than later, one of us is going to have to face the future without the other.

My leg is much recovered, and my partner has solved the other problem by forbidding me to enter the bedroom alone - a compromise with which I am happy to comply and the event has not been repeated since.

It may yet be many years before we are parted.  Many happy blog-filled years - and I am determined not to waste precious time in completing my "Evolution" series.

But we have witnessed a change this week - and it marks the beginning of the end.
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