Fat Boy Slim

There was no possibility of talking a walk. The wind howled across the fields and through the garden, and there was rain and drizzle on and off. Who in their right mind would want to go out? We had to, of course, briefly: nature had to be attended to; but we cut it short. God, it has been a long day. I've been itching to get out into the garden and do all the delicious jobs awaiting me, but it really was too unpleasant. Instead I've watched as my delphiniums have been battered and flattened, hopefully not terminally but I'm not going to check until the weather improves. It's June tomorrow, for pity's sake!

I've been continuing my work of fattening up my skinny whippet, and to this end have been giving him buttered toast between meals. The consequence of these treats is that, every time I get up to do something he thinks it's feeding time again and starts to get up too. "What?" I say as he begins to move. I stare at him and he gently subsides back into his bed or place on the kitchen sofa. "Please," I admonish. "Greed is not attractive". Chastened, he lies back down again, but it doesn't last and we have to repeat the process every time. I think the extra feeding is beginning to work, and the ribs are not quite so obvious. The Adaptil collar may be helping, particularly if the separation anxiety has contributed to the weight loss which I'm sure it has.

Earlier today we played some sort of game upstairs which he delighted in but which left me panting. It was a sort of chase involving me dashing hither and thither while he joyfully bounced after me and wagged his tail a lot. He loves it but I'm not as young as I was. But I can't resist his delight, and so I whizz from room to room, letting him catch me and patting him manically and telling him what a very clever boy he is. And then we do it again. I persuaded him to play with my rescue teddy, and he tossed it around and dived on it, pretending to tear it to pieces. That's a game I do understand - I toss the bear, he chases after it and pounces on it and brings it back to me. But he stops quite quickly, and when I have got my breath back off we go again, me clutching at the bannisters as we pass the top of the stairs because I can just see how that might end. At least it burnt off some energy, though I'd have preferred to do that with a book and a glass of wine - my mind would have been racing, eating up calories. I've corrected that now, and discovered the bottle Ruth and I didn't quite finish yesterday. I have tiny baby potatoes boiling, salmon steaks in the oven, and sliced green beans about to be steamed in the microwave. Good health!