Dave arrived on time this morning, but the Sage and I were running a little late. The Sage had gone to fetch mushrooms for Tim (a job he always did for Al and still does for Tim - it's the same farm as the wholesaler gets them from, but they are fresher, not having been to Norwich and sent out again the next day - and cost more money. I had found that there was a document that needed to be emailed out, and my connection was very poor and it took ages. Anyway, we made a start before too long.
As you see, Tilly was pottering about when I was taking the pictures. The vet phoned this evening - the blood test report was inconclusive. Some muscle damage was indicated, which could mean a lot of injections or blood tests, which she hasn't had, or a lot of lying around, which is more likely - she used to be an active little dog, but sleeps a lot more now. And her pancreas isn't in good shape, though they're not sure why. Another test could be done if it seems worth it and we're leaving it until after the weekend and the vet, who is a lovely Irish girl called Niamh, will ring again. I'm not very hopeful actually, though I realise I tend to look on the gloomy side. Let's not think about it for a day or two, hey?