A perfectly ordinary day to start. Brekker, a trip to the opticians to get new specs, as my eyes have been giving me grief since March, some work on the new project. For the Memsahib, a trip to her Pa with supplies, some 2MSD offspring cheer and a chance to walk our dog, Polly the Spaniel, around the acreage.
At that point, the day went unhappily wrong, as when she arrived, her dad’s dog Brock was patently very unwell and quite distressed. It serves no purpose to go into details, but professional help was obviously needed and in the new world of C19 working practice, that meant loading poor Brock into the car and away to the vet.
Brock seems to have been around forever – certainly half my married life – and has seen every type of family emotion from grief to cheer, from the arrival of new life and new family members to the passing of loved ones and the pain of parting. Brock had loyally comforted throughout, and now it was his turn to be given comfort.
The rest, in every sense, is history. Tears all around, but as Madame left the vets, our neighbours were arriving with three tiny pups, ready for inoculation. Brock had done his work and at 16 now romps around the Elysian fields. For three youngsters, it’s all before them.
