Sunday

We had a break in the run of hot, dry days today and The Dog and I were grateful for that. The shower of rain should have cleared the air and grounded a lot of the pollen that’s been triggering my hay-fever. Only time and the loudness of my snoring tonight will tell.

With a drop in temperature and The Dog having had a couple of gentle walks yesterday we allowed her a bit of serious exercise and took her to The Brook. It’s been quite a while since we’ve taken her there what with all the flooding and whatnot but she used to get 20 minutes every day back before all the chaos with our parents. We expected the path through the trees to have become really overgrown so I carried my secateurs.

On the way to The Brook we met one of our dog-walking friends. We hadn’t seen her for some weeks and had been a bit worried as we knew she wasn’t in the best of health.

“I’m so sorry.” she said.

Someone had told her about Lesley’s dad.

I stepped away as her dog is tiny and is terrified of ours so I only heard snippets of the conversation.

“The funeral was last Tuesday”

“Did your sister come over for it?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she behave herself?”

“On the day itself, with all the family there, yes, she did. It was only afterwards…”

The rest was inaudible but I could tell from our friend’s expression what was being said.

“She went back the day after. She’ll be coming back later in the year to take his ashes for scattering over there. Only if Dad pays for her flight though. To be honest, I’d rather just have them shipped.”

“Sounds like you’re better off without her.”

She isn’t wrong there.

We carried on to The Brook. The flooding had eroded the banks and made them steeper but The Dog coped OK. We even found one of her stashes of sticks had survived the torrent. She took her first breather after 12 minutes and we called the session there. She seemed happy and lively enough though.

And The Dog seemed perfectly alright all afternoon. Until she went to sleep in her beanbag that is. A couple of hours later she got up to move to a different bed and was as stiff as a board again.

“Does it worry you that she’s so stiff after playing Stick & Water now?”

“Yeah. A bit.”

Bloody hell.

Author’s Note

My Mum was in a nursing home in the Thames Valley for a year and a half until she passed away in December 2024. My Father-in-law went into the same home the following January. But Lesley’s sister didn’t approve and made the situation so awkward that he had to be moved. He passed away in March 2025. Names and locations have been changed or hidden to protect the identities of those involved.

Image Credit

Original Image by Nick Gilmore. April 2025.