Now she is sprawled behind me on the foor, stuffed full of turkey and milk with a big bald patch and a very puzzled expression on her chops.
She's going back tomorrow for removal of an huge tumour that has developed in her inner ear in under two weeks and last night I found another lump in her neck-which is also being removed tomorrow. I am more than a little concerned. She is 15 after all, and I don't like the mysterious arrival of lumps, I also don't like the fact that she will be knocked out for some time tomorrow. So for the next twenty-four hours, whatever Puddy wants Puddy gets.
And despite my even tone, I'm a fucking mess in case she dies on me. Stupid animals making us stupid love them.