Lying at my feet

There's a black furry rug lying peacefully at my feet, twisted between the legs of the chair, and the boxes and books piled up beside the desk. If I want to move out of this chair, I am going to have to be quite acrobatic to climb over him. I wouldn't disturb him for the world, because in the morning we have to take him into the vet for his second done of chemo, and I am worried about it.

Last time we handed Shadow to the vet, we believed that we would collect him the next day, and although we were concerned about him, we were full of hope that he had an infection. This time we hand him over knowing he is to be pumped full of toxic chemicals in order to delay a probably inevitable death from cancer.

One good thing is that his stitches are to be removed. We have a pup who we have had to keep apart from Shadow all week to prevent the pup introducing any infection of the wound. The pup - Sally, does not understand why she is shouted at if she manages to sneak near him. Shadow himself has not really been up to coping with her bouncing all over him. Normally when we are not here they are company for each other - play fighting, and chasing each other and when we walk them on the beach they run further when they are together than either do when walked apart. The day we can take them back to the beach and Shadow has the energy to race round in his normal exuberant way, that's the day I shall know that this treatment is worth it.