Thankful for Bertie's medication

Gail here: 

Over the years, the pharmaceuticals industry has developed a bad reputation. 

And yes, I'm all too familiar with the various criticisms of the way drugs companies operate. Many are valid. But today I wish to take a moment to state my appreciation of the dedicated scientists engaged in researching and developing treatments which genuinely improve length and quality of life for so many.

Why this topic? Why now?

Quite simply, I am beyond thankful that my beloved companion Bertie is sitting on my lap as I type, contentedly resting after a lively two hour romp in the snow, free of any obvious symptoms of the bladder cancer diagnosed back in September last year. At that time I was more or less told to expect the worst, and soon.

But since then, he has confounded expectations in every way that I can think of, and all the evidence points to the Previcox tablets he has been taking once a day ever since his diagnosis being responsible for the improvement in his wellbeing.

Are the tablets a cure? Assuredly not. Have they shrunk the tumour? Just possibly. Is my dog more comfortable and happier than he was six months ago? Most definitely, at least for the moment.

I readily admit that my attitude to pharmaceuticals is biased by my background. My father worked his entire career for Boots the Chemists at their Nottingham HQ, initially as a development chemist and later as a senior manager. It was there that he met my mother, who was working as a Personnel Officer. In later life my mother often said that moving to Nottingham to take the job at Boots was "the best decision I ever made"! Among my father's many fine colleagues was the man credited with 'discovering' ibuprofen (Advil to my friends in the U.S.)

Not everything that happened at Boots was good. Their record on using live animals in research is something we would now condemn. But with the world still in the throes of the Covid-19 pandemic, I also feel the time is right for a word of praise for the experts in chemistry, pharmacology, virology, immunology, genetics etc. who have been working night and day to develop life saving medications and of course vaccines for humans.

And then there is dear little Bertie.

Bertie's Booties

Do you like my new boots? 

They really are quite spiffy, don't you think? 

The boots are, Gail says, the latest weapon in our ongoing battle with the horrid interdigital cysts which now and then erupt quite painfully on my front paws, especially in the winter months.

Now I want to make it quite clear that there is absolutely nothing babyish or soft about wearing these 'Proff Shoes' (size 3) from Rukka Pets. They are advertised as worn by border patrol dogs on active service in Finland. And if they're good enough to sport when defending Scandinavia against invading Russkies, then they're good enough for a roughty-toughty terrier in Scotland, don't you think?

I admit I was a bit hesitant at first, but soon got the hang of the new footwear, and I must say it was nice last weekend to have a layer of rubber between my sensitive paws and the late winter snow.  

Am I not a "real dog"?

So my nice friends Yvonne and Neil invited me and Gail round to their house last night to watch the BBC's new TV series 'Civilisations'. As Gail was cuddling me in the kitchen, Yvonne mentioned that her younger son Aaron, who is studying at university in Edinburgh, had asked on his last visit home when they were going to get another dog.

Can you imagine how insulted I felt when I learned that what Aaron has in mind is not a medium sized and unfeasibly cute terrier, but what he calls a "real dog"? He has suggested maybe a rescue Rottweiler....

Meanwhile I am still having a wee bit of trouble with my paws - hence all the cuddles. I made it very slowly to the park this morning, but then had to be carried back. Gail says at least her arms are getting lots of exercise!

PS We are waiting until my paws are no longer too sore before trying out my newly purchased boots. Yes, we know, kind of a Catch 22 situation. ..

Feeling better already - thank you!

I guess it was all the kind messages you sent after my 'feeling very sorry for myself' post on Monday.

Anyway, I am pleased to report that my poorly paw is feeling loads better, so much so that yesterday afternoon I was able to enjoy an energetic romp around the 'Gramps' (a hilltop nature reserve on the nearby southern edge of Aberdeen, the name is a local abbreviation of Grampians and absolutely nothing to do with grandparents, you understand).

As you can see, we have been blessed with some winter sunshine here, although much of Scotland is covered in snow.

Gail says she is not sure what was going on with my paw. Initially the problem seemed to be a small cut on the underside, between the paw pads. This become infected and the vet gave me antibiotics and it all seemed to heal up nicely after a couple of days. But then a few days later, last weekend, the same paw become swollen and I was really uncomfortable and didn't want to walk at all. Gail feared one of the dreaded interdigital cysts was developing. Except perhaps it wasn't as by Tuesday I was feeling right as rain again. Paws crossed it stays that way - I had such a horrid time last winter with those evil cysts.

As a result of this latest podiatric hiccup, Gail and I have been wondering if any of our friends can recommend brands of protective boots which might help keep my precious and sensitive front paws out of trouble for the rest of this winter? As you know, I am an adventurous hiker and like to go out in all weathers, and so the boots would need to be quite rugged. (I do have a pair Trixie 'walker' shoes but they tend to slip down off my paws after I have walked a short distance and I don't really like wearing them). Oh and Gail says any boots would need to be easy to put on, which I think says more about her shortcomings than mine...

Christmas deliveries on hold in NW Highlands

Greetings from the Winter Wonderland of Torridon.

We're still here and the local roads are still impassable. The Royal Mail van has apparently been stuck since Friday.

The mountain snowscape is stunning, but the ice is making my paws a wee bit sore. Maybe I should ask Santa for some boots?

Boots, Beeston and remembering HGD

Well I am pleased to report that I did eventually get to visit Human Granny on Sunday, and found her quite cheerful despite her wobbly knees, bent back and ever slower movements.

Gail and I are staying in Nottingham for the whole week. We are hoping our host Janet does not subscribe to that thing about house guests being like fish and smelling after three days. Although Gail has just pointed out that I was, in her words, "stinking to high heaven" (see previous post) when I arrived. So where does that leave us, I wonder?

I want you to know that I have now been bathed and shampoo'd VERY THOROUGHLY.

On to other matters. The part of Nottingham where Janet lives is called Beeston, home to Nottingham University and former HQ of well known UK company Boots the Chemists.

Yesterday morning Gail and I walked over to the Boots 'D6' factory building, where Human Grandad worked for the best part of 30 years.

Apparently D6, constructed in 1938, is now a 'listed' historic building, considered to be an icon of British modernist architecture. Oh I could have shown you so much more if Gail and I had been allowed past the security gates, but a very rude man shouted at us and called us back when we attempted to saunter casually through...

So if you want to learn more about D6 (and I'm sure you do!) then you will need to click here.

In Praise of Human Granny

I am worried now that in my last post I left you with the impression that Human Granny is a rather alarming looking person.

Oh I would hate for you to have that idea. It is true that she doesn't too much like being photographed, but I think she won't mind me showing again this picture of her (and Human Grandad), to set the record straight.

Now I've told you quite a lot on this blog about HGD, so today I want to redress the balance and say some things about HGY.

Gail tells me that her mother had an unusual upbringing, being sent to boarding school, on account of her own mother's ill health, from the age of five. Yes, you read that right, five years old. Four years later, at the onset of World War Two, she and her fellow pupils at St Hilda's School, Whitby, boarded a ship at Liverpool docks, and were evacuated across the Atlantic, braving U boats and a hurricane, finally to reach the safe haven of Toronto in Canada. Brave little Maureen was the only person aboard who was not seasick during the hurricane. After four years in Canada, now a teenager, skilled in ice-skating, cross-country skiing and canoeing, and fattened up on the Canadian diet which included a quart of whole milk per day, HGY returned to the UK, was reunited with her parents and became acquainted with the trials of wartime food rationing in England. She was an able, diligent student, and her father had a fervent desire that his only child be well-educated. Following success at school she took a degree in 'Social Studies' at Leeds University and only narrowly missed out on first class honours. Soon after came a job as Personnel Officer at the Boots factory in Nottingham, marriage to a quiet, handsome Boots scientist nine years her senior, then two children, boy + girl, and a family life altogether more conventional than that she experienced in her own childhood, although she clearly found her later part-time job as a social worker in the City Hospital more stimulating than mundane domestic duties.

You know, I have noticed that HGY is a stoical character, not prone to self pity. Just like for us dogs, I guess it is those early experiences that are most important in shaping humans too.

It was fifty-six years ago that Human Granny vowed to look after her husband "in sickness and in health". I don't suppose she ever then envisaged that one day she would have to remind him of the way to the bedroom and to tell him not to put the butter in the dishwasher. But she doesn't complain, compelled by both love and duty to expend her remaining energies in caring for her ailing and increasingly hard to manage life partner, unable to contemplate the notion that anyone else might tend to him while she is still able.

Oh and I have to tell you that she is always most welcoming when I come to stay, despite her claiming not to be a 'dog person', and that I feel more comfortable and relaxed when I visit her than I do anywhere else in the world.