Onto the vets for a checkup. As I lifted the tailgate Wilfs face said it all - " I've had quite enough proding and poking to last a lifetime ". He sat immovable in the back of the car - " I ain't going !".
The good news is that he's definitely not in any pain but his bi-daily dose of cortisone is going to be increased slightly. The young lady vet has clearly learnt how to deal with obdurate patients. She spoiled him rotten. A bisou, a cuddle and some sweet talk and by the time she'd finished the examination he didn't want to leave. The vet cheekily told me she deals with all males like that. Wilf lay on the surgery table looking infatuated - ' Tell me again that bit about me being handsome '. We'll go back again in four or five days to check on his lungs and the growth of the tumour to ensure there's no discomfort. The diagnosis is that as long as he's keen to eat he'll be just fine.
The three American lady professors and show tune loving Merv came for dinner last night. Wilf settled down under the table and was soon on his back snoring gently.They plan to head off in their rental car later today for a weeks sightseeing. Four people - four entirely different proposed itineraries. Listening to the ever lengthening list of 'must see' destinations I decided that it would be churlish to point out that France is bigger than Delaware. Merv is going to be working the stick shift for all its worth if they want to do a tenth of what they've got planned. The line from the old hymn 'sages leave your contemplations' lodged in my mind as I dreamt of our four friendly academics hurtling across the plains of Picardy in their little Renault.