A bad night for Wilf. Lots of pit stops and heavy drinking. The insulin and diabetes simply not working together. With sleep impossible we're up early and in town at first light. Parking spaces to be had and the cafe quite empty. At the bar three, serious, pre-seven am imbibers. Wilf settles down under the table , nose protruding, while I collect a coffee and a bowl of water. From reading the local paper you'd believe that France alone is acting in Libya. No mention of the coalition until a solitary paragraph on page three.
The supermarket has had one of its startling nocturnal makeovers. Its turned into an Easter grotto. Aisles of Easter bunnies and tulips. Rows and rows of grinning chocolate rabbits exuding a cheerful wholesomeness. Spring is well and truly here.
A quick detour down to the stream for Wilfs quick pre-breakfast paddle and drink. When we get home the nice young vet is there talking to 'the font'. She's been worried about his blood loss and wanted to drop off a new product that coats lesions in the stomach and intestines. ' It's like gut mud ' she says unexpectedly, in English, as way of explanation . A reminder of just how kind and thoughtful people can be.
If things don't improve by mid-week Wilf may go in for a blood test . Then we'll know about his kidneys. Every dog knows that ' three things cannot be long hidden : the sun, the moon, and the truth ' .