I’ve no idea, but we’re fairly sure that it’s not a beagle.
Remember that Madonna album based around the Dick Tracy film back in 1990? The album’s title came from her character in the movie: Breathless Mahoney, and while much of it was eminently forgettable, it did give us Vogue and the pisspoor Hanky Panky (featuring the line: “Nothing like a good spanky”).
Fortunately, the 90s got better.
Anyway, I’m only mentioning it because today, I’m breathless. As in, just very short of breath. Now, we’ve been here before with these unexpected and uninvited Covid symptoms, but usually, they come all at once and then leave all at once. This one has popped in alone. Apart from the odd gasp, I’m feeling fine.
Yes, otherwise, I am well. Thanks for asking.
We walked on the beach, saw birds, walked the beagle and rockpooled: it was great fun, just all a bit of a struggle on the respiration front. Weird.
Hopefully, this disappears as quickly as Madonna’s terrible album and all will be right again by tomorrow.
Horror show from United this afternoon. We were poor, they were poor, the ref was poor, my internet connection was poor. Our luck was out. Very frustrating.
We’re all a bit deflated.
But I’m not going to dwell on it. There’s a braai lit, there’s local Shiraz full of white pepper and blackberries, there’s a sunset and there’s my new for 22 playlist.
Life could be worse.
Usually, when bathing the beagle – one of the beagle’s least favourite activities – I have to wait until the day is warm enough for her to dry off outside. No-one wants a house full of wet dog.
Today though, I had to wait until it was cool enough to be able to leave her outside. And it seemed that she quite enjoyed the refreshing water. Even then, she dried off in mere minutes. It’s been one of those February days, but before Christmas. Perhaps just on the limits of what I can handle: 36C in the shade is too much for my pale, European enzymes.
The washing was dry before I could hang it up. The gardener melted early on, despite several (or more) litres of cold water and the offer for him to come back another time. I cooked the dinner simply by accidentally leaving it out of the fridge.
I’m hiding inside with a cold drink and I might hit the pool later this evening before watching the last bit of football for who knows how long…?
But first of all, hello and welcome to any new readers that might have given a member of my family a D-dimer result recently.
Thanks for that. Ultrasound was clear (for that, at least), prognosis is all good. Happy days.
And talking of medical things, we had a minor beagle-related emergency at the cottage today. After the rain – yes, in December: I am also aghast – we had planned to take the beagle to the beach for a quick snorf and walk. We had got no further than the car park when she grabbed a small piece of sardine from the floor, yelped and indicated that she had got a fishing hook in her lip, by proudly displaying the fishing hook protruding through her lip.
Clearly just discarded by a fisherman. If only there had been a bin nearby for your waste. Oh wait, there was. You were just too lazy to use it.
Great. Thanks, wanker fishermen.
It very quickly became very evident that we weren’t going to be able to remove the hook ourselves. They are made to stay in lips, be they piscine or canine. And that meant a trip to the vet, 43km up the road.
Halfway there, we realised the we had no money and not enough diesel to get us there and back. Cue Samsung Pay on the boy’s cellphone (gotta love technology) and a quick R100 splash and dash at the Struisbaai Caltex.
The vet was friendly, helpful, Afrikaans and very efficient. A quick shot of sedative, a quicker shot of local anaesthetic, some MASSIVE wire choppers and a quick snip later, we brought an exceedingly drunk beagle back home. I’m happy to say that a couple of hours later, the beagle has wobbled around the room once and then struggled back to the beanbag and fallen asleep again.
Which sounds like a wonderful idea to me.