I've had a good six years with me mate, we've chased wabbits, made
rabbets, shared dreams, made and chewed curlies, discovered compressed
air and lawn mowers and walked a few hundred miles together.

Every day I get to go in the shop she's there getting underfoot and
generally being "right there". If I lose something she helps me to
find it, it doesn't matter that she doesn't know what it is, she helps
anyway. Nose down, tail up snuffling through the sawdust. Just being a
mate, helping out. And she always finds a squeaky toy because that's
what I am looking for. It must be, because I always throw it when she
brings it.

Last week, I took her to the vet for a regular injection and asked
about the lump on her chest. The young girl vet becomes still, and I
can tell that her manner is more serious, more thoughtful. "I need to
check this" she says, and goes outside to get a needle to sample the
lump. After looking in a microscope she is concerned that the lump has
uneven cell growth, and suggests that a small surgical procedure is in
order to know for sure. Today we got the results and they were not
good. The 'growth' is a mast cell which is particularly aggressive.

So, there is not a lot can be done without radical surgery or
chemotherapy. I don't mind the expense, but they delay the inevitable
and lower the quality of what time remains. For now we'll focus on
making fun the time left, leaving snacks around the place by
'accident' and going for more walks.

Ah crap, it's getting foggy in here.

Look after your furry friends folks, they love us more than we
deserve..