And so we have had the longest day of the year and the nights will gradually begin drawing in as we amble towards the autumn. No mind - there is still plenty of summer left for me to savour.
I have not been too well this past week - something connected with the insufferable heat, perhaps. But I have had one seizure and two nosebleeds in recent days - all rather tiresome and distressing for my partner. I have had brief recourse to my medication but am feeling much better today - recovered enough to assist my partner with some gardening. We have tidied our borders, pathways and patio and planted out marigolds gifted to us by my partner's mother. I adore marigolds - but my partner has forbidden me from eating them this year. I will obey for a couple of weeks and then feast when she has forgotten about her instructions, hehehe...
Aside from ill health (and my current quandary as to whether or not I should take cheese-brained doggy chum Ewan to one side and prepare him for the fact that I am, likely, dying) my life has been blighted with the arrival of new (will they never cease?) sources of aggravation.
On returning from work this Thursday last, my partner and I were greeted by one of our neighbours and her new acquisition - a Staffordshire Bull Terrier pup called William (he was born on the day of the most recent Royal wedding. His dam also birthed one other pup - a sister, named Katherine). William's fur is brindle and he is, both physically and in temperament, a very fine specimen. He has just had his initial jabs and so is getting out and about for the first time. He is so happy, so enthusiastic and just so, so... so YOUNG. He was fussing over me as though I were a long lost, treasured, brother and begging me to play with him. I hate him already.
As if this wasn't enough, the house opposite (where Honey the ginger cat lives) has got a new kitten (why? WHY?!). When they saw my partner and I talking with William and his partner in the street, the young children of the household came out to tell us this "news". My partner enquired as to the new kitten's name. In some kind of sick, misguided, tribute effort they have named the kitten 'Jasper'.
I hate everything. Although that may be down to the heat. Let us keep our claws crossed for cooler weather.
Good night.
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3 comments:
Sorry to hear that you had such a difficult week.
Getting old(er) ain't all it's cracked up to be, is it? I hear ya on THAT one!
Well Sir Jazz... as an older friend of mine used to say: "growing old is not for wimps!" And she lived to be 90 (in human years)!
I hope the days ahead get better... and that you learn to make friends with little William. He needs to learn from your experience(s) -- and hopefully he'll pay attention!
Much love and positive thoughts going out to you and your Ruth.
XXOO, Lance
Jasper, the way you are dealing with- (GASP!) I cant even mention the D word- is truly admirable. I know you are a strong, brave and (would I dare say) grouchy staffordshire bull terrier to be turned into a wimp by this darned illness of yours. Hang on my friend, but I wish the Heavens will spare you from pain.
Praying for you always,
The Secretary
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