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Thursday, 5 June 2014

Poor Woolly

  It’s not until something happens to your little furry mates…

  …that you realize how much you love them.  Poor Woolly has just had the second tumour in 18 months removed from his leg, this time it was so invasive that one of his toes had to be taken with it.  (They kept it in a bottle for further analysis. I’d really like to keep it in formaldehyde or something at home but I’m worried they might think I’m a bit strange if I ask for it back…)

SNOW! Waheeeeeeyyyy!!!!

  Both are 10 now and it seems strange to think that, in human terms, they’ve both become a pair of old men really. They still seem like the same Woolly and Greebs to me, just a bit slower, bit sleepier, bit grumpier, slightly smellier…

  They spent most of their prime years dragging me around at breakneck speed and generally having the best fun imaginable. Forget your Porsches and Ferraris, rolling into the pub car park aboard a Siberian powered scooter is THE coolest arrival ever.

  Odd to have a companion live it’s entire life cycle in such a short time within your own.  They’ve certainly packed a lot of adventures into their lives (and trips to the vets, police station etc and trying to convince the next door neighbour that no, no, honest, their guinea pig didn’t escape into our garden and get eaten…)

  The trips to the vets seem to get more frequent and it makes me start to think about the day when we take one of them up there and he doesn’t come home with us. Never really given it much thought until recently but the end of their lives is an awful lot closer now then the beginning was. Ten years? Blimey, it’s flown by.

  I feel most worried about how the surviving brother will get on alone – the two are inseparable. Probably best not to dwell on it too much, bit too upsetting….

  I know I’ve certainly missed our long walkies this last week or so – it’s the only time I get to have a sensible conversation with someone! (although it tends to be a bit one sided.)

"Cancer?" said Woolly, "Never heard of it. Does it come chocolate flavoured? Mmmm..."

  However, the expensive trips to the vets make you appreciate what privatized UK hospitals without our ‘free’ NHS might be like (and it will happen before too long):

 “Change your dressing sir? Ok, that’ll be 40 quid…”

 “Oh dear, that’ll need a local anaesthetic and 5 stitches.. that’ll be 600 quid. Are you paying cash or credit card?”

  “I’m sending you for a MRI scan.  £1800 please…”

  Thank goodness for pet insurance. I’ve certainly had my money’s worth from them over the years!!



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