The difficulty of getting old
The difficulty of getting old is that I’m not so nimble on my paws. To be honest, trying to direct Mum’s gardening efforts yesterday I was at times doing more harm than good. It wasn’t so bad when she was just clearing the big vegetable bed. I kept clear of the comfrey that we’re growing for fertiliser. Apart from that it was pretty safe for me to walk around. I had to make sure not to step on my little robin friend, but he’s pretty good at moving if my paw comes too close.
The real problem came when I was just outside the greenhouse with Mum. She has brought some of my seed trays out so that the plants can be ready for planting. Unfortunately, I trod on some of them by mistake so those ones aren’t going to need planting now.
Paws crossed
I’ve got my paws crossed for Wilma’s vet visit this afternoon. Now I’m out and about she’s even more miserable to be missing out. Quite apart from that, the vet did say that if she hasn’t recovered by today then it is going to mean being referred for an operation on her eye and none of us want her to have to go through that.
If she is given the all clear I think she’ll be having a wild party to celebrate or at the very least having a good run around the garden. She tried chasing a rabbit yesterday forgetting that she was a) wearing a cone and b) attached to Mum by a lead – the whole thing nearly went horribly wrong.
It’s been over four weeks that Wilma has been in a cone now so it’s no wonder she has so much pent up energy. That rabbit isn’t going to stand a chance if Wilma is signed off by the vet.
Love Aristotle
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