The Longest Time

     I dread this time of year; the long dark nights, the short dull days, the freezing cold weather, but this one really flummoxed me real bad because as soon as the clocks went back I fell into a lazy-hazy lethargic melt-down.  Night after night I would collapse on my bed absolutely knackered, then ping awake and be forced to lie there staring into the dark blackness well into the wee small hours.   Then around about 4 o’ clock I’d get up and go watch some rubbish late-night TV for a bit, or flick on the light and read a book in the attempt to bore myself to sleep.

     I know I suffer from SAD, but this was more than just a seasonal disorder thing. I think the severity of this slump tho’ probably had more to do with my desperate attempts to ignore the nagging doubt in the back of my mind about the multitude of lumps growing all over my poor wee angels’ body.  I couldn’t bare the fear that her aggressive cancer was back, even though it hadn’t been that long since her ear had been removed – a visit to the big, bad vets was long overdue.

     Eventually I plucked up the courage and took the poor mite along to see what turned out to be a young, small and very amenable young girlie vet.  But the place was busy and sitting in the packed waiting room for so long not only exacerbated my sore back but wound poor Tigger up so that by the time we were called through I could hardly stand up straight and Tig had to be dragged from cowering under my seat.

     As it turned out the big lump on top of her head that worried me so much turned out to be nothing more than a harmless growth, unlike the cluster of spots on her back-end which unfortunately required further investigation.  A blood sample was taken – horrid needles (yuk) – and another appointment made, and needless to say I left the building feeling much more upbeat than I could ever have hoped.

     The alarm bells started again as soon as the vets called to move our scheduled appointment time. Why the big rush, it must be serious, her cancer must be back.  I felt sick, I was dreading this – I didn’t want to know -my panic was back, as was my insomnia; I couldn’t help but think the worst.  So it was with a heavy heart and a stiff upper lip that I took my baby back to hear the bad news.

    The look on the young girls face when she realised the lumps hadn’t grown said it all.  I almost screamed with glee at the thought of it not being cancer, but was told soberly that it came in many forms and that Tig would have to have the nodule removed for them to ascertain what was wrong with her.   A reprieve then, at least until after her op…

The Wonderful Thing About Tigger’s That Tigger’s a Wonderful Thing

       My Wee Beauty

After dog-sitting for my friend one weekend, I decided I wouldn’t mind getting one of these adorable things for myself and so popped down to the Cat and Dog home to find myself a wee beauty. Having never owned an animal before I was a tad apprehensive but was told I had nothing to worry about, the dog would pick me, and right enough on my third visit to the rescue centre up ambles this soft cutsie thing, tilting her head to one side and fluttering her big pleading brown eyes my way.

I was hooked immediately, but unfortunately wasn’t allowed to take her then and there, because apparently Pippa (her old name from her old life) was a bit of a handful, what with her horrendous history, her temperamental nature and her habitual attempts at escaping. Not being put off, I did return the next day, pay the necessaries and drive her home.

Watching the wee mite run around down the beach for the first time, nose twitching and her bouncing all over the place was a joy to see, though also rather sad because I reckon this was the first time she’d ever felt fresh air before.  I was dying to see her frolic around in the sea, but I couldn’t even get her near the waters-edge without her bearing teeth – one of the many negative associations she carried with her from her previous life with her big, bad owner.

About three days after that I crashed my car and as some passer-by opened the passengers’ door to ask if I was okay (I was apart from a burst, bleeding lip), Tigger jumped out and ran off. We scoured around but she was nowhere to be seen, and the policeman who offered me a lift home said we’d just have to watch out for her en route.  I was ashamed, I’d hardly looked after her for any time and I’d lost her, so imagine my delight to find the wee angel-pie sitting patiently waiting outside my garden gate, having found her way over hill and dale.

Not long after that I was watching Tigger frolicking on the beach when suddenly she pounced back onto the street in front of a car.  It happened so fast, and I was still trying to work out what was going on, when I heard a thud and watched my baby fly up into the air, smash back down and quickly scurry away, shaking and shivering profusely.  I didn’t know what to do; I wasn’t feeling too clever myself having just witnessed this, but thankfully the driver, who was thinking more clearly, bundled my angel into his car and drove us to the vets, where apart from the smallest of nicks above her eye, the brave soul was given a clean bill of health.

Then one un-fine day a ginormous lump appeared on her right ear, just below the permanent cigarette-shaped wound that idiotic swine of an owner left her with.  And after a biopsy was carried out on said lump, and I was told my beautiful baby had cancer and a very aggressive cancer at that, I tried to remain calm and was managing right up until I was told half her face would have to be taken away. However, the wonderful thing about Tigger is that Tiggers’ a wonderful thing, and with her bouncy nature intact she sprung right back, albeit minus an ear flap. Worst fear of all though, another lump appeared on her beautiful, cutsie face just the other day, so we’re back off to the vets soon – fingers crossed/wish us luck.