"You need to get down to her level to know what the problem is", someone said. So I did and, if the truth is told, I had difficulty getting back up again. Amy was off colour last week. Not her normal self. Her tail wasn't wagging, the doorbell would be rung without her leaping up, there were piles of decaying debris on her daily walk left unsniffed and unexplored. So we took her to the vet who examined her, prodded her, listened to her heartbeat, felt her lymph nodes and concluded that she was "off colour". He gave her the canine equivalent of a bottle of Wincarnis and told her to come back in a few days.
I had my own theory about the cause of her malady : I strongly suspected it had a psychological origin. You see Amy likes to be the centre of attention, and for a week or two she had been coming a close second in the attention stakes to The Lad. It was The Lad's final exams and we were nervously waiting to find out whether he had passed, whether he had become a doctor, and whether he was due to cease being a storm drain on the family budget. Finger nails were being bitten and corridors were anxiously being paced. And Amy was being ignored. So she threw a sickie and had to be taken to the vet.
By last Friday the news came through that the Lad had passed and nothing now stands between him and his job as a Junior Doctor starting in August. We could relax and spare a moment to tickle Amy under her chin and feed her a sausage. She immediately perked up and started bouncing around like a teenager again. I would have liked to include a picture of The Lad and The Girlfriend taken on the day the news of their success came through. But Amy might see it and get jealous again. Perhaps if I make it a very small picture tucked away at the very end of this post, I might just get away with it.