Category Archives: Rufus

Rufus, an 11-year-old blue Bearded Collie. The best dog in the world. Gets his own area, being the dog he is….

Rufus

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I am a little bit worried, to be honest.

He is old now. He has lots of bumps and lumps. Unfortunately, Dino will keep licking them until they bleed – and so he is full of sticking plaster and bandages.

The problem with sticking plaster and bandages is that the lumps don’t get time to dry out and heal properly.

One, in particular, is causing me some worry. It’s just behind his ear. Last summer, Dino licked it so badly that we had to take Rufus to a vet who cut it out. The lump was checked and was not malignant.

But, within 6 months, it was back. And Dino licked again. However, then it kind of ‘burst’. The smell of the excreted puss was gaggingly awful. But, once cleaned up, it (and Rufus) seemed much better.

Except it came back again.

And Dino licked again.

And so Rufus has a bandage round his neck again.

And for the last few days, the smell is back. And I’ve tried to clean it up, but it keeps excreting ‘stuff’ and so, smelling a lot. So I have to have another go at it tonight.

Unfortunately, he also is suffering from diarrhoea …….again. He was on Dia Tabs for 4 days and now on some oral medicine but it only seems to be working a bit.

And, last night, I thought that, maybe, I should take him back to the vet later this week.

And then I thought that perhaps the vet would say that there was really nothing they could do. And then I thought that it is difficult to say whether his quality of life now is really all it’s cracked up to be. And then I worried that, if I took him to the vets and the vet said that there was nothing he could do, the vet would add that he should be put down now.

And that made me feel really bad.

And, so, I have decided that on Thursday or Friday, I will take him to the vets and, at the very least, ask him for penicillin which may cure the weeping, smelly lump and for certain WILL cure, if only for a limited time, the diarrhoea problem.

And, then, maybe we can keep him for a bit longer.

Doormats or good mates?

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V used to say that I was too nice.

What he really meant that I was a bit of a walk-over.

I always said that I preferred to be a walk-over than be someone who was always in things for what I could get from them.

But, you know, just sometimes, I wish I wasn’t like that? For I get annoyed but suffer it in almost silence.

This weekend we go away. I have arranged a ‘dog sitter’ to come and take the dogs out.

It’s not ideal as they will be on their own most of the day and all night – but there’s not much I can do about that. The dog sitter is a reliable guy. I used to see him in the park all the time, looking after someone’s dog or dogs. He got a lot of business, I could see, but he was really good with the dogs.

And then, yesterday morning, I am Skype messaging with a friend. This friend has some problems (but, then, who of my friends doesn’t?) and I have been empathetic as she will be leaving to go back to her own country soon. In fact, it was supposed to have been at the end of the summer. It’s dragging on a bit.

She has a ‘best friend’ in Milan but it seems they have fallen out. She has some stuff ‘stored’ at said ‘best friend’s’ house. She needs to get this stuff before she leaves Italy. She suggests that she come and stay at my flat (if it’s OK) whilst we are away.

If that’s OK?, she adds.

I can’t think of a really valid reason for it not to be OK.

Except that I don’t really want her there. I don’t know why, really. Is that terrible of me?

Worse still, she was suggesting that she come tonight! F isn’t terribly excited about that and nor am I.

She finishes work at 5 and will call me then. Maybe it will be too late for her to get a train? We would both prefer if she came up on Saturday morning (but early).

If she does come then at least someone will be there during the day and night for the dogs. So I need to concentrate on that.

Other than that, of course, I’m looking forward to this long weekend away with F. Just the two of us and (slightly guiltily) without the need to rush back for or get up early for the dogs.

Cornish pasties or sausages?

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It was like Cornish pasties. Or sausage rolls. They’d been overcooked. They had too much fat. You know? The ones with that fatty pastry – the sort you get from Greggs. The smell is at once disgusting and appetising – but, maybe not at half past eleven at night. Not when you didn’t cook them. Not when the smell fills your bedroom like someone had been cooking them in that room. Not when it wakes you up.

But let’s go back a bit.

F is in Germany. I took him to the airport on Monday morning. I don’t mind doing that but it does mean getting up a little earlier. Therefore, Monday, I was tired. I also had clients in at work.

After my lesson, I spoke to F by phone. Then I took the dogs out for their walk. It was 9.30. By 10, I was in bed. Since I had been so tired all day and evening, I thought sleep would come immediately. But the bastard ran away and wouldn’t come back.

Added to which, my hips hurt like hell. They normally hurt if I have been wearing particularly tight jeans. Now that I am the size of a small elephant, all my jeans are that little bit tighter.

So, what with the pain and the not wanting to sleep, I couldn’t. And my teeth hurt a bit because I have been clenching and grinding them again.

Eventually, I got up and took some nurofen. Eventually, I guess, I fell asleep.

The smell filled the bedroom. As it is, again, quite warm, all windows are open. The smell was coming from one of the other flats – also with it’s windows open. The smell seemed to get stronger. I got up. The smell was throughout the flat. I hated it. It won’t let me sleep but what can I do?

I walk around spraying airfreshner in every room. This almost masks the smell but not quite. I look out of my window – as if I can tell where the smell was coming from (which was a stupid idea); as if, having worked out where the smell was coming from, I could do anything about it (I wouldn’t).

I like living in a flat. I miss having a garden but am grateful for not having a garden and having to spend every weekend keeping it from becoming an unruly jungle. All things have good and bad points.

I hate that I am too close to people. I hate when I don’t like their cooking.

I don’t like this cooking.

I go back to bed, smelling the smell and hating it. I guess I must have dropped off to sleep again.

At 5.40 in the morning I could not smell it.

But, maybe, I was used to it?

I become more Italian; I am using all aces.

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He comes back today. Well, tonight, really. For 3 days and 2 nights. Of course, it has to be enough. Then it will be the following Saturday night before I see him.

The last I saw him was last Friday night. Well, that’s not entirely true. He flew to London early last Saturday morning. I got up with him and the dogs and I went down to Carrara.

On Tuesday night he came back from London and the flight was due to land about 11 p.m. The next morning he was flying to Spain (where he is now). I knew I would not see him for a whole 7 days since he was getting in so late and would need to do stuff before leaving in the morning. I really wanted to see him so I suggested I might come to the airport anyway.

And he almost asked me to bring the dogs. So I did. We went to the airport to meet him. I couldn’t wait inside the airport now that Rufus can’t control his bladder so well. Not only is it (slightly) embarrassing, it’s a problem to clean it up. The little sacks don’t pick up piss. For that you need mops and things and I can’t really carry those around with me, now, can I?

So I brought the dogs anyway. We drove to the airport. I found a place to park. You are supposed to pay for this (it was meter parking). It was 10.30 at night. I became very Italian. I didn’t pay. We waited outside the exit and he arrived about 11.30.

Both dogs were so excited to see him. He fussed them for a bit and then we walked to the car. I didn’t have a ticket for having not paid, reinforcing my idea of being Italian in this instance (and ensuring I am more likely to do it again, of course). Then I drove him to his home. He had suggested that we sleep over at his. I said that I would the dogs at home. He said that it would be better if I didn’t come as he had to do washing and repack and, anyway, wouldn’t get to sleep quickly. So I went to my home.

Tonight I shall go and pick him up from the airport. He has to work on Saturday morning. I have doubts that he will want to come to my home so I won’t take the dogs tonight. It gives him added incentive to come to mine. Is that wrong?

Yes, it’s wrong but don’t we all use what we can? If he doesn’t come then that’s OK. I can’t say I blame him. But, still, I want him to come to mine. Even if, as a result of the last few days, I will, almost certainly, be asleep within seconds and won’t want to be waking up at 7 or 8 when he will need to get up.

To be honest, it doesn’t really matter. Tomorrow afternoon I will see him. Tomorrow night and Sunday I will see him. It’s the best that can be done so it will have to do.

I go to the beach for a coffee

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It was all a bit unpredictable.

I didn’t get up so early and, when I did get up, I had a drink and cigarette ….. or two.

Still the day looked quite nice. I went out with the dogs, driving them to the dog walk. The sun shone and it was quite warm – almost hot in the sunshine. I took them back and, on arriving back at the house, the weather seemed a little bit more cloudy.

Still, I thought, if it changes, I can always come back.

So I drive off to the beach and park.

I arrive at the café on the beach. The café looks shut. There is a table where some women are chatting. One of them is the beach owner’s wife and another is the woman who makes the sandwiches in the little café.

I ask if the café is shut. She explains that they had to close the shutters because of the wind. Indeed, it is very windy. She asks me what I want. I ask for a cappuccino. I ask if there are any brioches. She says there aren’t. It’s OK. I sit down with my coffee at one of the tables. I take the first sip and suddenly the women get up and move to be under the umbrellas. It is raining slightly. It may not amount to much but the sky looks quite ominous. I drink my coffee quickly.

However, by the time I finish, it is raining heavily and the few people who were on the beach are packing up. I offer to pay for the coffee but she tells me not to worry.

I kick myself for not getting up earlier – getting down here for a last swim. It is, after all, probably, the last of this season – at least for me. Saturday was wonderful. Clear skies, very warm. When I left (the beach) about 5.30, it was still very warm and yet, half a day later it is as if it is autumn.

In fact, autumn has arrived. The rain, the cold – the miserableness of it all.

It’s all quite sad, really – AND F isn’t here to make me feel better. I want summer back again.

Is that it?

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Is that it?

The first day of September. Not, officially, the first day of autumn – but it might as well be. Thunderstorms and showers – oh, yes, and a bit of sun. It’s still warm though, which is nice. I mean, warm enough to still be wearing sandals and a T-shirt (although, as I write this I am not wearing those things – but I was at 6 a.m. this morning).

And I’m sure that it’s not it, really. I’m sure we shall have some really nice warm days during September and, if we’re lucky, through to October too!

I went out for a drink last night with An, F’s friend. On waking this morning I got the usual after-a-night-drinking-and-having-too-many-and-not-keeping-my-mouth-shut thoughts. I.e. I said too much about F and stuff. I shouldn’t. But it’s ages since I’ve been able to ‘chat’ with someone. Especially a woman and so I kind of ‘let go’. Damn. Oh well, I’ll get over it.

F is away. I join him tonight. Me and the dogs. The weather will be better apart from, maybe, Sunday. But it’s OK anyway.

Our July was stolen!

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It’s all gone a little awry.

Let’s be honest, June and July were, as far as the weather was concerned, a bit of a let down. Where were the 40° highs? It was, mostly, warmish but really nothing like previous years.

August started off quite mediocre and then, around the 15th it seemed that July had come, finally. Like August had nicked July.

Milan is now hot. I mean to say that this morning, at just after 7, on my drive to work, the temperatures were reading 27°. It was also about that, this morning, around 6 when I took the dogs out. The forecast I use says it will get to 33° this afternoon but I think it will be hotter.

F is not really happy about it since he’s not really into heat and, now that our holidays are over, he wants it to cool down.

The dogs aren’t really happy either but they have plenty of fresh water.

OK, so even I have to admit, lying in bed at night with sweat pouring off me isn’t the most comfortable of things. However, it’s only going to last until about Thursday, so I’m sure I’ll manage.

Oh yes, I suppose I could get some air conditioning – but it would be for about a week a year so hardly worth it and, anyway, I couldn’t use it if F were there because, like all Italians, they are susceptible to ‘air’. This can produce many illnesses which include a sore throat and, in F’s case, a bad back. I was allowed to keep the fan on last night but only with it pointing away from us. When I left this morning he said he wasn’t feeling well. I guess there’ll be no fan tonight!

Just in case ………..

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Well, my blog does seem to be ‘up’ more often than it’s ‘down’ which is a great improvement, I’m sure you’ll agree.

However, slightly worrying is that the hosting company’s forum/website has been down since yesterday afternoon! Generally, this is NOT a good sign. So, I am backing-up at least once per day in the hope that, if I DO have to move it all again, I won’t be caught with my pants down.

We shall see. But, just in case it completely disappears for a day or two, you will, at least, know why.

In the meantime, the weather is wonderful. T-shirts and sandals all the time – even walking the dogs at half past midnight!

Most people, of course, complain it’s too hot and it’s so difficult to explain that, in the past, with my feet that feel the slightest cold (and always have although I’m certain the smoking doesn’t help it), being able to walk in sandals at gone midnight is truly fantastic …… for me.

The dogs are finding it a bit warm, however. Still, it breaks tonight/tomorrow, getting back to a manageable 25° or so (that’s degrees C for my American visitors).

Have a nice weekend, everyone.

The last few days

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We did bitch about Italians quite a bit. It makes me feel a bit guilty but it was really all about shared experiences and, unfortunately, most of them would be about Italy and Italians.

It was beautiful weather. We arrived late – very late – after I had been to Bologna to pick her up.

Saturday was walking the dogs, having a coffee at the cafe in the centre of the town and then the beach.

Saturday night was dinner at La Brace (see restaurants on the right). This was fabulous and some spectacular wine except for one thing – we had Fiorentina (a steak from Tuscany) but, unfortunately, it was overcooked.

However, very nice.

Sunday, I had planned to take her to Le Cave (where they extract the marble) but I woke up really late and so, after the dog walk, it was just the beach again.

We left later than I wanted but, still, it only took 3 hours to get back – the traffic queues being at the start instead of the end.

It was nice but I miss F when I’m there. Still, from now on, he should be with me :-)

Maybe it’s time for a change?

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You shouldn’t expect them to be perfect.

Doctors, I mean. They are called (in the UK) General Practitioners. And ‘general’ for a reason. They know a lot – but not everything. They might know a lot about common diseases and problems but they are not (and don’t profess to be) specialists.

It’s the same with all professions, I guess.

Reaching this stage of my life, I now understand that they are not God. Nor are any of these professionals. Chemists, Solicitors, the rest.

My vets has two people in the practice. One of them I like and trust. The other I don’t really like nor do I really trust. However, I was really quite shocked to be told, last night, by the one I like, that the instructions given by the other one were not right and that ‘he was wrong’!

Rufus has blocked anus glands. I went to the vets and the nice one gave me a prescription for anti-biotics but said to come back in one week to make sure it was taking effect.

I did. The other one was there. The other one looked and said it was coming along nicely and to finish the treatment and then come back in two weeks.

Last night I took him back. This time there was the nice one. He asked why I didn’t come back at the end of the treatment. I told him that I didn’t because his colleague, the other one, had told me to come back in two weeks.

“He was wrong”, he said. He explained that, although 90% OK, I now need some cream to put on (that doesn’t really fill me with joy but I’ll do it, of course). And then go back in 10 days.

I think I need to change vets, don’t you?