Bank holidays!

 

Bank holidays!

Jellicoe and Gilbert after a busy Easter Sunday

Bank holidays are days when banks, specifically, and many other businesses, are closed. They are days of celebration or commemoration of religious or historical events.

There will be eight bank (public) holidays in England and Wales in 2025. Scotland’s holidays are slightly different – they have nine, and Northern Ireland has ten. Scotland recognises St Andrew’s Day, that saint being their patron saint. Ireland’s patron saint, St Patrick, is celebrated with a bank holiday too, while neither England’s St George nor St David of Wales qualify for a special holiday.

If a bank holiday occurs at a weekend, another day is substituted. This is normally the following Monday.

We’ve just had two bank holidays, Good Friday and Easter Monday, making a pleasant long weekend for those who were able to take the time off.

There is always a slight sense of relief for us when the bank holidays draw to a close and normal service is resumed, and maybe that is true for everyone. It there is to be an emergency, we’d rather it occurred during ‘office hours,’ as it were.

Last evening, at ten o’clock, Barry discovered Jellicoe lying on the kitchen floor under a chair. This is not normal behaviour for him. He spends all his time with us. He had been fine at seven, when he had his final meal of the day, but now he was fairly unresponsive, and breathing quite rapidly.

Barry brought him back into the sitting room and we stroked and watched him, and then decided we could not risk leaving him until the morning. By midnight, he was in the veterinary hospital a few miles from our house. His glucose levels were exceptionally low, and the conclusion was that he had an infection of some sort.

At present, some fifteen hours later, the opinion seems to be that he probably has pancreatitis, which he has suffered in the past. At some point in the near future, he will need to be referred to specialists, as a scan showed potential problems with his heart and lungs.

We’re told he is stable and ‘a lovely cat.’ He is a particularly good patient, keeping his teeth and claws to himself and enjoying human attention.

Now, it’s a waiting game.

Meanwhile, Herschel is pacing the house, looking rather lost, wondering where his sparring partner has gone. Though he gives the impression of liking the idea of being an only cat, he misses his brother. He is enjoying having the dogs to himself, though.

We didn’t get to bed until two a.m.

I thought we might have a little respite from the morning alarm of miaous, always emitted by Jellicoe. It was not to be. Herschel took it upon himself to yowl and walk all over my hair. There’s no peace for the wicked. We must be very wicked!       

Update: Jellicoe is coming home tonight, (Tuesday)  with antibiotics and a change of food! We are relieved.

                             

Roxy makes a friend

 

Roxy makes a friend

                                            Roxy meets Rosie

Roxy trotted off to see her friends the vets earlier this week for a check-up. She always likes visiting them because they’re so nice to her and she usually (actually always!) receives a treat or two . . . or three.

She was checked over thoroughly and pronounced fit and in good condition. Her teeth were particularly remarked upon and they certainly are nice and white and clean. The daily carrots and chews are doing their job, obviously.

Roxy is very friendly and likes meeting new dogs, so she was very pleased to see a dog behind the Reception desk. Rosie is a Labrador/Rottweiler cross and she was just as happy to make Roxy’s acquaintance.

                        Gilbert awaits Roxy's return. Note the piglet!

Gilbert was rather perturbed that Roxy went out with Barry and he had to stay at home with me, so he was very pleased to see them when they returned. He sniffed Roxy all over, to learn where she’d been and what she’d been up to.

Today, Friday, they both stayed at home with me while Barry went out to meet some friends for lunch. They were delighted when he came home, Gilbert presenting him with his latest toy – Gilbert’s toy, that is, not Barry’s.

                        Gilbert loves his little piglet. It makes a lovely noise!

Gilbert the Good – free at last!

 

Gilbert the Good – free at last!

Free at last,

Free at last,

Thank the vets

I’m free at last.

I went see my friends the vets again this week. They said it was so they could check my tummy to make sure it was all properly healed. I think they just wanted an excuse to see me again.

Anyway, I don’t have to wear my puppygro any more – oh, the relief! Now, when I want to go out I don’t have to stand and wait to be released from my suit and then be snapped back into it when I come back in. Better yet, I can play and run and race and jump to my heart’s content.

On our way out of the vets’ surgery, Barry said he didn’t have any more biscuits in his pocket. I don’t know why he said that but immediately, I took him to the desk where the pet treats are kept and everybody was amazed and said what a clever boy I was. Not that clever, really, we dogs have an excellent sense of smell and extremely good memories. That’s particularly true of Labradors.

I’m a happy boy.

TTFN

Gilbert

Gilbert the good – update

 

Gilbert the Good – update

Well, good morning my faithful readers. I said I’d let you know what happened at the vets. I went back to see them on Monday and I know they really, really like me ‘cos they wanted to see me again yesterday. They said that although I was heeling healing really well they wanted me to carry on wearing the puppygro for another week. Then they would see me again and after that I could go out on a lead. I ask you, where’s the fun in that?  So I’m a bit fed up. The good news is that I won’t have my stitches taken out. They will dissolve because they’re magic!

Janice has hauled the puppygro off me again, twice. She washed it yesterday but then it got wet this morning when I went out. There are lots of puddles in the garden and I think it came untucked and dragged in one of them . . . or else I peed on it . . . so she heaved it off me. She said it might smell, otherwise.  I thought that wouldn’t matter too much – it would only smell of me and that’s alright in my book, Honestly, the woman’s got a positive fetish about washing things as you can read here.

The humans have got to ‘keep an eye’ on Roxy’s lumps. I wonder how they’re going to do that? Whose eye will they use? We all need all our eyes and anyway how would they make it stay in place? It sounds daft to me but I’m only a dog, so what do I know?

Did I tell you that Roxy’s got kennel cough? I don’t know where she found it as she only sees me and Arthur and Lottie. It’s not very bad and the vets have dealt with it. Roxy told me she had something sprayed up her nose – no wonder she’s coughing.

Jellicoe’s coughing too, but Janice thinks it might be ‘reverse sneezing’. That cat can’t do anything the simple way.

TTFN

Gilbert 

 

Gilbert the Good – in good faith

Well, the first shock of my 1st birthday was that I wasn’t given my breakfast! To be fair, Roxy didn’t have any, either. That was alright, though, because I knew I would be going out soon.

I trotted off happily enough to the vets. They were very pleased to see me. I mean, I don’t want to be immodest, but they’re always delighted when I appear, and it’s mutual. 

I knew I was staying there for the day but I couldn’t tell you what happened because I seemed to be asleep for most of it. When I woke up I had a little snack but my paws weren’t working properly and I was still a bit wobbly when Barry came to take me home.

 My tummy and tail end both felt a bit very sore but I couldn’t investigate because I was wearing a peculiar garment, an all-in-one affair that felt really odd. Barry calls it my leotard and Janice says it’s a babygro. I think puppygro would be a more fitting name. I look quite smart in it, I must say.

The humans all decided that the puppygro would be better than the Collar of Shame. Jellicoe and his brothers had to wear them once and he said they were horrible.

                   Left to right: Isambard, Herschel and Jellicoe model their Collars of Shame.       

Jellicoe had to wear a babygro - a kittengro - a few years later after an operation. He's been through the wars!
                                                                                                                      

Gus-who-came-before-me had to wear the Collar of Shame when he was a bit younger than me and he hated it, You can read what he thought in this post.

   I was glad to get home and Roxy and Herschel and Jellicoe all gave me a good sniffing. The next day I felt much more myself and was looking forward to a good gallop and some rough and tumble play. I wasn’t allowed!! 

I was told I had to ‘rest and recuperate’ whatever that means. It seems to mean that I mustn’t jump about and if I do I have to go into my prison crate – so boring. Janice gives me a biscuit to make persuade me to go in it. Sometimes Usually I know what she’s up to and wriggle round to lie on her feet. That way, she can’t move!

Every time I want to go out, the body suit has to be undone and pulled over my back and tucked in so that I don‘t pee on it. I still don’t know what happened to my tummy and tail end but they aren’t so sore now. I had to go back to the vets to be ‘checked’. I wondered if I would come out of there with little squares of colour all over me, but I didn’t.

Then I had to go back to the vets AGAIN for another check and this time I came home with some antibiotics because one of the wounds (What?? ONE of the wounds? How many were there?) was looking a bit inflamed (Really? Flames coming out of me?)

I’m going back again (this is getting tedious) later on today (Monday) and maybe the vets will take the stitches out. I worried when I heard that. If they take the stitches out will I fall apart? Honestly, I went to the vets in good faith and they really are trying my patience. Anyway, I'll let you know.

Roxy went to see them a few days ago. They said she’s got some lumps. It’s quite usual for older dogs to get lumpy. They stuck a needle in her and took 'stuff' out of one of them to ‘send off’. (Why do humans like sticking needles in us? Poor Jellicoe gets them stuck in him all the time.)

Janice has hauled my puppygro off me twice now to wash it. It does feel nice to have clean clothes – but much nicer to go without.

 TTFN

Gilbert

 

Gilbert the Good – my week last week

 

Gilbert the Good – my week last week

 Lottie, Arthur and Gilbert confer

            Arthur and Lottie came to stay with us while Susannah and James and Frankie were away on holiday. Susannah calls them ‘The Spanfest’. My humans call them ‘The Dancing Dogs’ or DD or D squared and sometimes other things.

    Lottie was getting beaten up used to our cats. She and Arthur have four cats in their house that all get on with them but don’t demand top billing. Our cats taught her to show them the grovelling respect they demand deserve. Arthur learnt that a long time ago. 

The other day, Herschel batted her and then Jellicoe followed up with another blow. It made a change from them cuffing each other. There were no claws involved and she wasn’t hurt, just very surprised. She can jump back out of reach really quickly now.

                                                 Arthur

 The Spanfest were quite happy in our house, but every time the doorbell rang they rushed to the door, ears alert and tails wagging, expecting their people to appear. I went along as well, because I’m nosy because I wanted to see their people, too.

One of my favourite places to sleep downstairs is around Janice’s feet. She puts up with it likes it because I keep her feet warm. Arthur decided he wanted to sleep near her, and then Lottie wanted to be included. It meant that Janice was forced into many contortions and she doesn’t bend at all easily. She developed a funny walk and complained commented that we were making her knees and hips ache.

Every day when my humans went round to Arthur and Lottie’s house to feed the cats, we went with them and played in the garden. D squared thought it was strange to go home and not stay there but leave again to come back to our house.

Roxy likes to keep her distance. She decides when she wants to play and won't be persuaded by young whippersnappers!

Janice and Barry said it was lovely to have four dogs again, but two Labradors and two Spaniels are not the same as four Labradors. The Dancing Dogs are very busy, rushing here and there and back again, noses to the ground and very easy to trip over if humans aren’t careful. Luckily, my humans are used to the slow, get-under-your-feet sauntering of the cats which can turn into a sudden mad dash without notice so the Spanfest wasn’t a problem.

It was nice to have them here but I’m sure they’re happy to be in their own home again.

The exciting news is that it’s my birthday tomorrow. I shall be one year old and I'm quite a big chap now. I’m going to spend the day with the vets. Jellicoe stayed with the vets one day last week so I suppose it’s my turn now. I’ll miss my humans but I really like the vets so I’ll be alright, and it’s only for one day.

TTFN

Gilbert

A funny turn

 

A funny turn

I'm ready - let's go!

On Thursday morning Jellicoe was on top of one of the kitchen cupboards and didn’t want to come down. Normally he is vociferously harassing me for breakfast. Alarm bells rang. Barry lifted him down and we offered him food and although he did eat, he was twitching and unsteady on his paws. I thought he was going to have a seizure. Having lived with Frodo the Faller for many years I was well aware of the signs.

Knowing how quickly cats deteriorate when unwell, we called our vets and although they didn’t have any appointment slots free, they agreed to do a blood test since we all felt Jellicoe’s glucose levels were low. It proved to be the case and then he went back at the end of the day to be checked again when it was decided that he should spend Friday there for the whole day to have his glucose curve checked. That meant that he was to have no breakfast on Friday morning. By then, Jellicoe was feeling quite chipper again and couldn’t understand why his food was being withheld.

Where's my breakfast?

We had been doing blood tests at home to check his levels but it was causing him distress which we thought might be worse than persevering with them. We decided that we should begin testing again rather than the more stressful, for Jellicoe, twice-daily trip to the vet, or not test at all, and run the risk of another downward spiral. It transpired that the entire testing kit we had was out of date so we bought another one which arrived very promptly.

It looks very straightforward in the videos. A quick prick in the ear flap should produce enough blood to smear the blood glucose test strips. It’s not quite so easy in practice! Jellicoe is a very good-tempered cat but his ears are sensitive - and very hairy. 

We’re told the little prick doesn’t hurt, but it’s not our ears that are being punctured. Ensuring that enough blood appears sometimes means squeezing the ear flap to produce a bubble, again, not something Jellicoe enjoys.

We managed it yesterday evening after he came home and again this morning. We will have to brace ourselves to repeat it this evening. I’m sure (I wish!) that we will get better at it! We don’t like testing his patience and causing him stress but it is in his best interests.

A good wash is required after a meal, starting with the left paw . . .

 . . . and continuing with the right

We changed Jellicoe’s feeding and insulin injection routine. I had been jabbing him while he ate but the problem with continuing that is that if he does not eat all his food, he will have too much insulin in his body. That is serious and can cause seizures and even death. Usually he finishes everything he’s given and immediately looks around for more, but that cannot be guaranteed. So now I hover over him, hypodermic syringe in hand, ready to jab him as the last morsels disappear.

He’s worth it, though. He’s such an affectionate boy – to everyone, apart from his brother!

Mother or Mistress?

Frodo is spending the morning with the vets. He's having bile tests and a scan to see how his liver is functioning. One of the medications he takes to control his epilepsy, Phenobarbital, is known with prolonged use to have a deleterious effect on liver function. His latest blood results last week showed a greatly increased rise in one of the liver enzymes, ALP (Alkaline phosphatase) hence his in-patient status today.
So the morning routine was disrupted because Frodo was not allowed to eat before the first bloods were taken. All the animals variously yowled at me, patted me, followed me, threatened to trip me up as they waited in vain for breakfast. Gus was particularly insistent - he is not just a hungry puppy but a hungry Labrador puppy with very strong instincts for sustenance.
I took Frodo to the vet just after half-past eight. He was somewhat surprised to be there again so soon but is a very adaptable dog and accepts his lot in life. The consent form duly filled in I prepared to leave at which point Brenda, the head receptionist, said, 'Come on, Frodo - you'll see your mummy again soon.'
This is not the first time I have been referred to as 'Mummy' to our animals. (I don't think they call Barry 'Daddy'!) Usually I make a passing reference to being an old bitch - or cat. I started to wonder which is preferable - to be a mother to an animal or a mistress. I suppose the maternal role is slightly more respectable as mistress implies a woman of somewhat easy virtue. What title should I have? Owner, handler, companion, partner-in-crime? I think 'servant' might be the correct term!

Castaway – doctor or vet?

I have always said that if I should ever be cast away in an inhospitable place I would hope that among my companions there would be a veterinary surgeon. In my opinion they are far better qualified to deal with day to day emergencies and of course their diagnostic skills must be infinitely superior since their patients cannot tell them what hurts where. Of course, I'd have to stand on all fours – or on my back with my legs in the air (done that, for babies, four x umpteen times!)

I don't doubt there are good doctors and bad vets – I have met examples of each. Based on our experience over many years, my trust would be more readily placed in a vet than a hospital doctor. I know at this time of year the hospitals are full of newly-trained, apprehensive doctors who are expected to put into practice what they have absorbed in six years of training. Again, some will be splendid, some adequate and some should go back to medical school.

I have no idea of the experience of the hospital staff who recently - I was going to say 'treated' but that would be inaccurate, so, who recently 'saw' my fourteen-year-old granddaughter. Kiri had hurt her ankle badly playing football (her team won the game!) My daughter took her straight to the Accident and Emergency department at Dorchester Hospital. The leg was x-rayed and no break was found. 'Someone' decided that it was a bad sprain, told her she must use it and would not give her crutches as she 'didn't need' them. Kiri could not put her weight on it and burst into tears every time she tried. Gillian, very worried, took her to their family doctor who immediately suspected ligament problems and arranged for Kiri to have some crutches.

Days passed and Kiri's ankle was very swollen; she still could not put any weight on it, the pain was intense and she was taking strong painkillers regularly. In order to straighten her foot she had to carry it over to the opposite side of her body, above her other foot and allow gravity to work on it. Gillian went back to the hospital several times without getting a satisfactory answer. Eventually, almost a week later, she was told that they 'thought' Kiri had snapped her Achilles tendon and so they put her leg in a cast. So Kiri has had many days of pain, lost many days of schooling and given her parents a few more grey hairs – and Gillian has had to overcome the attitude, so prevalent in medical and educational circles, of being an 'over-anxious mother'. I applaud her for her fortitude – my grandchildren are lucky to have her and Paul as their parents. (My son and daughter-in-law are similarly to be commended!) It is appalling that a young girl should have to endure such (lack of . . .) treatment and such pain.

We have had several animals over many years that have led active lives and suffered occasional injuries. The vets' treatment has been immediate and to the point. By way of direct comparison one of our cats damaged her leg and the consulting vet immediately diagnosed and treated cruciate ligament damage. On other occasions treatment has always been urgently applied according to need.

Perhaps the Government has set targets for the NHS that do not encompass injuries of the nature that Kiri has endured. Perhaps the emergency departments are so focussed on meeting objectives and ticking boxes that they have lost sight of their primary function – the relief of pain and distress.

My apologies – this is a very personal rant. Make no mistake – if someone is in dire need through injury, accident or chronic illness, the National Health Service is wonderful, truly – and certainly my sister, among others, would not have had the peaceful, graceful passing that she had.

For 'everyday' emergencies those of us who can afford private medical insurance are thankful – but it's WRONG. There must be a better solution. (Education is another bugbear . . . ugh . . . later!)

A Quick One - Taking the Piss

Frodo the Faller has a Urinary Tract Infection (UTI) and has to return to the vet tomorrow for further urine tests. He, or rather the vet, needs a urine sample and my husband has just said to me, 'You're good at taking the piss!'

Ummm . . . yes . . . there's no denying that. I have to say it's much easier taking a urine sample from a dog than a bitch (or a male rather than a female - human, that is!)

Urine is good for other things too, of which more anon!