Hubby has gone to do a little job for a fellow boat owner before she goes off on a trip tomorrow. Apparently the professional guy who fitted some runners in her boat has left the square ends jutting out and our friend keeps catching her clothes or hands on them.
Hubby has made two little curved doughnuts out of a scrap of wood and varnished them, so has gone down to fit them for her.
He’s also been asked by another boater to look at a bilge pump which needs replacing so I am here on my own, singly, alone, by myself, in solitude, unaccompanied and in one-ness.
Of course I have My Girl for company, but she was sick in the night so we are having a quiet day and I’m letting her sleep. Saying that though, she is likely to rouse shortly and want her second walk but that won’t be a problem and I’ll take her round the Avenue which will be our second mile of the day.
As I look at her sleeping beside me, I can see how she is beginning to show her age.
Her snout has been flecked with grey for a while, but new patches have appeared around her eyes, giving her a somewhat salt and peppered look.
In her dreams, she still chases the rabbits or whatever doggies chase when their feet start to twitch and go through the running motions. In her waking hours, she and the rabbits have an understanding, and smile at each other in passing.
At times, the back leg lifts almost at right angles to her flank, gradually and gently slipping down to go up again in several repetitions. Barney used to do the same with his front legs, so we called this The Titanic position.
Sometimes she whimpers, and I read somewhere that one should not wake a dog from a nightmare. I simply put my hand gently on her back, and eventually she relaxes, the whimpering stops, and she continues to doze. She is comfortable and secure in her world, so I’m not going to disturb her.