Listening to: My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down (Ramones)
Just back from a couple of days on Orkney Mainland and the news is mixed.
We've got hot water at last - it's been just the four weeks without. The new cylinder has been fitted and we can have hot baths. Can't wait to break out the lavender bath oils.
Bad news is that our little terrier Milly is not at all well. She's 10 (we think) and has been below-par for a few days. She's normally very bouncy, affectionate and actually capable of getting into all sorts of trouble.
Apparently she hasn't moved off the sofa for two days, drunk only a little and eaten nothing. She looked painfully thin when we got in so I made her some very milky porridge which she lapped up. She looks a little better, but I'm worried enough to be arranging a trip over to Kirkwall on Friday to see the vet. (We don't have a vet on the island).
Milly was abandoned as a puppy and my stepdaughter rescued her from the dog's home/death row near Wolverhampton.
She's always been 95 per cent sweetie-pie, five per cent hound of Satan. At least two neighbours' rabbits have fallen victim (she's an expert escapologist) and we have had more than one trip back to the 'pound' to pick her up after she has, as Mrs Wannabe Pig Farmer likes to put it "just fucked off".
If Spike is the clever one in our house, Owen the nice-but-very-dim one, Milly is the one neighbours would later describe as "a bit of a loner", "liked to keep herself to herself". She hates other black dogs and has mugged several wire-haired terriers. We keep her on quite a tight lead.
But she's in no state to chase anything, attack anything, or do anything much, and we're worried.
So it's fingers crossed for the old girl, any wishes, prayers and so on would be much appreciated.