Oppression of Spirits ‘r’ Us.

 

One of the results of Pav’s blood test is dubious, so she has to go in for more tests on Friday. *

Chaos, historically the more internally stable of the two hellhounds, is streaming** again.

And remember the Saga of Wolfgang, that I didn’t get round to telling you?  The one thing that went right the ghastly week I had off the blog thanks to my FABULOUS MODS?  The general drift was that I was facing one of those do-I spend-all-this-money-on-an-old-car decisions and I cannot afford a new car.***  I occupied the four or five days till the garage could look at him wondering what to do and what I could live with . . . and then they fixed him in an afternoon for £100 labour and a new rubber gasket.  Yaay . . . except that it hasn’t stayed fixed.  In less than a fortnight it’s all starting to go wrong again. . . .

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Well.  We’ve just upgraded to geysering.  As I’ve said before, whatever this is, it’s getting worse.

It’s a short blog tonight.

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* If this is significant, however, which I doubt from the description, and the vet even says it’s probably a one-off anomaly, it would be about Pav herself specifically, and nothing we could generalise usefully about the hellhounds.   While I still insist that it is completely counter to any kind of sense or logic that my puppy, six years younger, unrelated and an entirely different breed with no common ancestors till the dog equivalent of Lucy, should have the same frelling variety/expression of IBS^ that the hellhounds have . . . it seems to me totally possible that I could have the kind of luck which provides me with two entirely separate resident canine gene pools each of which has something wrong with them that manifests in IBS-type symptoms.

^ IBS/IBD—IBD seems to be the preferred British style—Irritable Bowel Syndrome or Irritable Bowel Disease.  There’s also Inflammatory Bowel Syndrome/Disease which we’re not talking about.

** It’s a four-tier system.  Bottom level is the trots, which barely get a mention in this household.  Next up is the runs, which do start to make me nervous.  Next up yet is streaming, aka rivering, which is Very Bad.  The pinnacle of horror and despair is geysering.  We have not yet reached it in this instance.  We are still hoping not to.

*** Especially when I’m spending all my money on vet bills.  I’m going to shoot over the edge of what my insurance will pay—assuming it does pay and, as I’ve already said, I am dead meat if it doesn’t pick up the tab on the £500-to-walk-in-the-door specialist—and meanwhile I’m haemorrhaging money on ordinary vet bills.