The next sands I feel between my toes ...

Evening, 

And so back down to earth and to the "new normal", or in our instance, just the plain old normal from before, just with the added holiday blues. Last week I wrote to you from our holiday chalet caravan in Newquay. This week I write to you from my desk, or at least what can be called my desk, in my spare room listening to the rain in the background as Mr Warehouse watches some loud twenty-something Youtube Vloggers loudly discussing their sexual exploits and prowess. 

After Monday's visit to Cornwalls pride, Healey's Cyder Farm (and after spending a small fortune on apple juice, cider, chutneys and jams) Tuesday was a more relaxing day out to St. Ives, just a few miles down the north coast of Cornwall. Known for its surf beaches (and I mean isn't everywhere in Cornwall), its art scene is just as prominent. The seafront Tate St Ives gallery has modern art exhibitions focusing on British artists and outside in the harbour isn't any different with many an art shop or small independent gallery. And if the beaches and harbours weren't tickling your fancy you could always take a stroll through the nearby Barbara Hepworth Sculpture Garden. However, Mr Warehouse and I did not nearly get into an argument on the train with a local "Asthmatic" over not wearing a face-covering for nothing (from Monday 15 June 2020 everyone must wear a face covering when travelling by public transport in England - Unless you have a valid exemption certificate of which my fiance had. Me, on the other hand, kept quiet and hoped she wouldn't start on me). 

Oh no. We were stomping down to the jetty to board a vessel that would take us to sea so we could fish. On the website where we (I) booked, StIvesFishingtrips.com, they say that the St Ives bay is by far "your best chance to catch mackerel in the summer months as it is and has been a mackerel hot spot for years" and to be fair to them, that it was. 

As well as mackerel we were expected to also catch other species including Cod, John Dory, Red Gurnard, Scad, Pilchards and Haddock for your tea, or not. Our trip was only 1 hour & 30 minutes in total and once we hit open ocean we didn't have to travel far and were fishing within 5 minutes. As the only full-time fishing boat in St Ives, Mr Warehouse and I expected to be coupled up with maybe one or two other couples, possibly even just ourselves given it was still early days of everything being back up and running after the pandemic, however, with our friendly but firm deckhands we had the best experience of sea fishing. And with a little help and using top of the range rods and reels I was even able to catch something. Although as our bucket filled and my future hubby and I waited for the deckhands to un-hook all of the fish (so no risk of hooks in hands which are very painful as I experienced a little prick from one) I could feel my insides squirm a little as I watched the fish gasp for air and thrash around in their final moments. I can and could understand why some people would not feel comfortable with this and whole-heartedly would be against it altogether, however, with the boat able to take up to 10 passengers I would certainly do it again and almost 100% so with kids in-toe too, moreso to teach them of life and death and the circle of life and where we all come from and that shit. Well, that and free food!

And although we never got to go to Seal Island, just west of town, to see the seal colony, we were greeted when we came back into harbour with a friendly sea-doggo. As we carried our 8 fish out of the harbour (you think that's a lot, we caught over 14 although Mr Warehouse didn't want to being any home so I thought 8 was a compromise) we felt tired and ready for home time. 

Wednesday was a day out for all the family (not that the dogs couldn't have come with us on the boat, they could have, however an inquisitive labrador and rambunctious puppy was the last thing I think anyone needed on board - Maybe next time pups). Land's End. An area of beautiful scenery and cliff faces, Ocean views for days, Lands End Landmark is a headland in western Cornwall, about eight miles west-south-west of Penzance. To the south of it is the English Channel, and to the North, the Celtic Sea. Out to the East is the rest of England and out to the West was the Atlantic Ocean. Unfortunately, it was a really foggy day and on leaving Newquay I was annoyed I may not see much and it would be a wasted trip, however, on arrival, it seemed pleasant enough. With miles and miles of open land to walk and crags to investigate it would have been perfect a few years ago, but sadly our older pooch just isn't up for walking that far now. But she did manage up to the tea room for a Hot Chocolate and some more photos. It was quite warm to be honest as well, as it had been most the week, overcast but warm. As we sat and admired the beauty I thought about how lucky I was and grateful I am of the dogs, sitting nicely and patiently waiting whilst we finished our beverages, ready for the next adventure, albeit back to the car. 

Thursday we packed up, sadly so but also looking forward to getting home and to our own comfy beds, and after a pit stop to the Newquay Riding Stables at Trenance Stables, a holiday staple now every time I visit Cornwall. Riding out along the River Gannel estuary, sandy mud bog under hoof I felt at ease and wholly relaxed. I wish it could never end, but it had too and as we trotted back into the stables I thanked the staff once again for an incredible experience riding out along the sand dunes and rivers, I just wish our little ones could join us by the hooves, riding out as many hounds and horses have done over the years. 

As lunchtime approached, Mr Warehouse drove us all back to Newquay to dine on fish and chips by the seafront. Looking out over the beach I became emotional. I thought back to the horrible moment I had to drop our Golden Oldie off at the Vet's before her emergency Pyometra operation a few years back and how I whispered in here ear flaps, soft and blonde, "I promise we will bring you to Newquay one day so you can feel the sand between your toes and run and play on the shoreline." My thoughts then turned to the fact that here we were and that the next time Mr Warehouse and I visited, maybe even to the same bench, it would not be with her at our feet. Swiping away a tear and sharing my last fish and chip scraps between the two pups, I was sad to be leaving but excited too as it meant we were just that little bit closer to our wedding. 

After a short run along the beach and a play in the wet sands it really was time to leave and as we buckled the pair of them into the back seat, boot filled to the brim, Mr Warehouse started our journey home. Six-and-a-bit hours there and just over five-hours back wasn't bad going. For the short term, we will have our fudge and rock, jams and cider, but until we meet again beachy shores. I suppose thinking about it our next beachy holiday will be our Honeymoon!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An Early Morning and A Very Cornish Adventure

Morning, 

1.50am. It was early and I couldn't sleep. It was dark outside and I had only been asleep for a few hours. But it wasn't because of noisy neighbours or COVID induced insomnia, something I have struggled with since mid-lockdown. No. I was up because I was excited and just couldn't sleep. Within a matter of moment my alarm, along with my sleeping beau next to me would go off, alerting us to the time we need to get up and leave - 2am. 

After a quick stop off for petrol, we were off, a flask full of sugary coffee and Pain Au Chocolat and Blueberry muffin to keep us full, we hit the road. Our dogs safely tucked up in the back started to settle more as we headed down the motorway in the darkness of the night. Several months ago in what can only be described as a wet and uneventful January, I wrote New Year, Newquay, and finally, now we were here at that moment. With Mr Warehouse not wanting a holiday at all and me craving something remotely similar to Malaga (minus the skin cancer-inducing sunburn) I knew he wouldn't be able to resist, one of his favourite places - Newquay.  

Pulling over at a service station just outside Basingstoke I swopped with Mr Warehouse to drive the rest of the way. Two-hours down, only four more to go. Heading into the country lanes from the larger A-roads I knew we would be stopping soon. It was just coming past 5am when we stopped in a little car park in the middle of Dartmoor National Park. A vast moorland in the county of Devon, southwest England, the Dartmoor ponies roam its craggy landscape, defined by forests, rivers, wetlands and rock formations. With its multiple trails that wind through the valleys with Neolithic tombs, Bronze Age stone circles and abandoned medieval farmhouses it is certainly a beautiful landscape. The area is dotted with villages, including Princetown, home to Dartmoor Prison used during the Napoleonic Wars which was where we stopped near for a quick toilet break and walk with the pups. 

The rain soon put a holt to that though and we headed back to the confines of the car. Heading out onto the long and winding roads again we were met with some of the local wildlife including Cows, Ponies and lots of Sheep. After possibly getting lost, and many more hours on the road, much larger than the dirt country lanes and paths we nearly got stuck down, we soon arrived at the Ladyevelyn. Situated at the heart of the Newquay Bay Resort, just two miles from Newquay this peaceful holiday park is set in a peaceful valley, amongst the surrounding countryside, allowing us as guests to enjoy the best of both worlds. Obviously, due to the Coronavirus, the normal facilities including bar, heated indoor and outdoor pools, sauna and steam rooms and excellent entertainment were all out of action. 

That being said though, our holiday chalet, Ladyevelyn, offers accommodation with WiFi, private parking and dogs were welcome. With what was quoted as a "fully equipped kitchen" I would hardly classify it as such. Granted it came with a microwave and Iron as well as a fireplace, seating area with a sofa and a flat-screen TV it was comfortable and modern, however, there were no bowls just large tapas dishes, the cooker didn't work and most of the lights didn't work either. There was a fridge and a kettle however the coffee machine wasn't anywhere to be seen and there seemed to be a lack of any other amenities - I mean it wouldn't hurt to have a welcome pack including some tea, coffee, sugar and maybe a loaf of bread and some milk. A little gesture that wouldn't cost a lot but would honestly make a world of difference. The private bathroom came with a shower however the hand towels were threadbare and the mirror had rust around the edge.

However as we settled in and had a little snooze, we learnt later on that afternoon walking the dogs that the park is less than a mile to Porth Beach, however, this was not really somewhere we could have walked to easily as there were steep hills and narrow lanes everywhere, and the twenty-minute walk would have killed our eldest pooch who turned thirteen next week. It was our youngest pup was annoyed by the wind and kept barking at it into the ocean wind. As the waves came splashing in they both loved it feeling the sand between their toes and watching them both run and play on the shoreline was honestly memory I shall treasure forever. "I promised we would get you here hun, and now look at you," I said to our Golden Oldie, recalling the horrible moment I had to drop her off at the Vet's before her emergency Pyometra operation a few years back. 

Our first night was spent watching telly and chomping down on Chinese from the local. Today we visited Healey's Cyder Farm where Mr Warehouse and I explored the Bottlery, Distillery and Cellars full of apple wine, cider, brandy, whiskey and now gin. On their website, the history describes how Kay and David Healey went from turning the key in their first off-license, to bringing a 150-year-old farm back to life. Buying up a 16th century press, planting orchards and turning the fruit from their trees into world-renowned drinks and produce, this is now an award-winning cider farm. 

Overseen by their sons Sam and Joe, the Healeys are a family that’s long been in love with Cornish cyder and their's is the first Cornish distillery in 300 years. For more than 30 years the family’s been living and breathing apples every day which is why it made such a good day out ... and I suppose the free samples helped. Tomorrow's activities are sea fishing for mackerel and Wednesday we are taking a trip out with the dog's to Lands End. It's a shame to think next time I write I will be home!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Family is not about Blood

Hiya, 

Hanging up the phone I was excited for my little Step-Pooch to get her nails clipped at the groomers as she does enjoy day trips out to new places. Always rushing to try and see everything, smell everything and generally be in everything. Always nosey and forever our little star when she goes anywhere with the Vet or Groomer they always tell us how good she is and how lucky we are to have such a well behaved dog. Or maybe that is just what they say to every owner?!

However, as we did our weekly "pretend" vet check where we get her up for cuddles on the sofa and pretend that she has her teeth checked, her eyes, her paws and her ears. But something was wrong. 
"What on earth is this" Mr Warehouse exclaimed as I turned to him he showed me. Not seeing clearly I allowed him to guide my hand over the inflamed sausage-shaped lump in our pup's floppy ear. Shaking us off it was obviously uncomfortable but not sore to the point she cried. I looked at Mr. Warehouse and we wondered if it was something serious. 
"If we need to go to the Vets we should go now," I said panicked as I looked at the time. It was early evening so confident we may get seen that night, so I dialled the number for our local vets. 

Without saying what it may be or telling us an educated diagnosis they seemed concerned and worryingly said that there were no appointments for that evening but instead, could we instead bring her in tomorrow morning, first thing. I agreed and ended the call with little more than being told it was a possible aural haematoma - a solid swelling of clotted blood within the tissues. But with the prospect of a £45.00 fee just to examine her properly, I shuddered at the true cost once medication and extras had been added. 

Wanting to make sure that our Vets were correct, and find a cheaper consultation fee, I called another vet closer to where we have now moved to in the countryside. They explained that yes, similar to a blood blister in humans, that animals can get these too, most commonly after an ear infection or, in this case, smacking a soft floppy ear off of something hard. Bursting the blood vessels and, unlike humans, dogs and other animals struggle to regulate this natural occurrence and thus rather than the body automatically absorbing the excess blood back into the tissue surrounding the area it creates a pocket that fills up and then starts to process and drain away the fluid into the body. However, this process could take days, weeks or even months in many cases and we discovered after Googling it (I know I told him not to but Mr Warehouse was on it before I came off the phone to the Vets) most dogs and cats are left with a cauliflower ear, crumpled and disfigured from the trauma. 

Booking an appointment for Monday we kept an eye on our grumpy pup all weekend and made sure that sausage was not filling up too much. I was concerned that the following morning we would come down to a bloodbath scene with splattering's up the new white carpet and walls following the blister bursting overnight. Thankfully we had nothing of the sorts and instead she was fine if only a little irritable.  And so this evening after work I arrived home and, bundling her into my little Fiat, Clifford, we went round to the new Vets. Pulling into the small car park and walking in, I felt happy with the practice and could see just how much they cared and loved animals from the photos and thank you cards on the walls. 
"This feels like a proper country bumpkin vet's," I said to my fiance, who laughed and made some comment about not being in the 'real' countryside. 

Soon we were called through and looking over her the petite blonde lady took another look at her ear and quizzed us both on our dog's habits and traits. I explained that following our Pyometra scare in February of 2016 she was operated on to save her life and spayed and that other than this she is as healthy and fit as a fiddle. 

The lovely Veterinary nurse said that most likely it was an aural haematoma and that this would be easily fixable. She explained that it’s typically caused by overly aggressive ear scratching or head shaking that resulted from an ear infection. To try and make our fur baby feel better the Vet suggested a drain to draw out the fluid with a needle or syringe under general anaesthetic. A steroid and medication would then be injected into the pocket to reduce swelling, inflammation and to stop it from happening again. However, she also explained that it is very common for an aural haematoma to return and on the next time, we would need surgery.

Going into more detail, The sweet lady said confirmed that a surgical repair is often considered the most effective treatment for ear hematomas. Looking online at vetstreet.com, Mr Warehouse has seen that, along with the Vets advice the surgery will be carried out under anaesthesia and an incision is made along the length of the aural hematoma on the inner surface of the ear. Once the fluid and blood clots are removed, the inner surface of the ear is tacked down to the outer surface of the ear with sutures. The sutures hold the inner and outer surfaces against each other so that when scar tissue forms, the two surfaces are smooth and not lumpy. The sutures generally stay in place for a few weeks while the incision is left open so that fluid will continue to drain as the ear heals. Eventually, the incision will heal on its own.

Taking the lead the kindly nurse took our pooch to have her aural haematoma drained and returned with a rather bloodied dog. Bleeding stemmed,  her fur and coat were smothered with bright red claret. We must have looked worried as the vet went on to explain that whilst she has attempted to drain all of the blood (and apparently there was alot) there may still be a little amount that will continue to come in the next few days, and, coupled with the steroids and medication to prevent it filling again we may have a little spillage here and there. 

Told to keep an eye on it and being given our first lot of ear gel, we booked in for another appointment next week to see how pup gets on. Looking at it now as she sits at the foot of the bed, on a towel and looking sorry for herself, I remind myself about how complacent I can be sometimes, about how we can all be sometimes, when someone we are around all the time becomes ill or poorly and you remember just how much they mean to you and this is no different when it comes to our dog. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

One Year On ...

Afternoon All, 

Hard to see how things have changed since this time last year. A lot has changed, however there are many things that are still the same old same old. Like my love for Cheese and Mr. Warehouse's obsession for recording stuff and not watching it on the iPlayer. But one thing is for sure, and as it approaches Valentines Day our love for each other is just as strong as last year if not moreso. Another thing that has grown stronger is our love for Pooch and given the circumstances surrounding last year I am glad we have made it this far with what was such a sad and desperate time. 

Mr. Warehouse and I noticed the pooch had a gunky eye first of all. It was closed and sore looking. Pups had not been well for some days, not eating properly, if at all and had a complete loss of interest in anything she used to love and enjoy. Worried if it was something more serious we bundled her into my car and headed to the Vets. Once the Veterinary nurse  had taken some swabs of her eyes and quizzed us both on our dog's habits and traits over the last few days. Mr. Warehouse proceeded to explain that pooch had been prescribed some medicine for a water infection a couple of weeks ago and it had seemed to clear it up but she had done a little accident two days earlier, which he put down to just being excited, although I and the Vet disagreed. When I explained that since she was originally owned by the Brother of Mr. Warehouse, she had not been spayed the Vet seemed evermore concerned. Then come a wave of peculiar questions that were all answered with a yes. At this point the Veterinarian seemed very anxious and asked our permission to take bloods to see how her vitals  were performing. When I asked the Veterinary nurse about what might be possibly wrong I expected it to be something small and easily treatable, but then cam her explanation. 

"She has what is called a Pyometra which is where the womb fills up with pus and as a result is extremely dangerous and life-threatening without treatment. An open-Pyo is where the cervix has opened up just enough to let the pus seep out which is still serious but can wait a few weeks for an appointment, however a closed-Pyo will mean it is essentially a ticking time-bomb, getting bigger and bigger and with no-where to go could burst at any moment, killing her." 

Shocked and shaking I asked about what we can do and what as owners our options were. She talked through the various routes we had but ultimately the cost was huge and we had to consider other options than surgery. Numbers and figures whirling around my head all with the thoughts that this was a very simple and easily preventable illness. I couldn't take it. My rage filling up inside that this was what we had to deal with because of someone else's negligence. The Veterinarian took some more swabs from Pooch's undercarriage and said that since there is no leakage that Mr. Warehouse and I had to prepare for the worst. Leaving our sickly pup in the hands of what would have appeared to be a very, very good Pet Doctor we left to grab a coffee and discuss our options. 

After Mr. Warehouse's Brother bought the bundle of fluff he handed her over, almost like a toy and into the care of  a teenage Mr. Warehouse and his Mom, both of whom worked and were not ready or prepared for an animal. But nevertheless they cared for her as best they could but as a adolescent man, no-one had kept her up to date on her vaccinations as a puppy or as an adult dog. Therefore as a result of this, her pet insurance had been invalidated years ago. Without it we were left in a very desperate situation. 

"We have a lot to talk about" I said, hoping that magically we would find the money or a solution would come to us in the darkness, only lit by street lamps on the side of a road, outside what we now know in the daylight as a church. Watching the cars windows steam with little talk and more silent tears, all I could see were dog walkers. We were one of them. We still are one of them. And we needed to find a way to fix her. She is our dog and Mr. Warehouse and I need to be strong for her because for every moment we have had a shitty day or been poorly or unhappy she has been there for us. Now it is our turn. Not just that but we have got so many things left to do together. Run on sandy beaches, Hop on a ferry for a holiday or just for her to share in some of life's biggest moments with Mr. Warehouse and I.

She was still on antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication from the Vets but Mr. Warehouse and I decided to carry on with our Peak District Valentines break away with Pup but within twenty-four hours after coming off the meds, returning home our pooch got poorly again, signature eye infection and constantly licking her privates. Taking her to the Vets again they couldn't determine as to what was causing her upset. Asking to consult with colleagues we were left to discuss our financial options which were dwindling with every visit we seemed to make. With the prospects of a £1,500+ bill for the operation alone we were nervous of what the Vet had to say. 

After searching constantly for a way to get through this calling over one-hundred local vets and even ones as far as forty miles from where we called home. Mr. Warehouse never knew the sleepless nights or evenings I would spend researching charities or funding pages that may be able to help. I must admit though that I did look into the horrific alternative and the costs that it would incur. Every night I was left alone with the TV I would open up my laptop / tablet, pooch sat beside me, and nearly cry my heart out for the lack of help around. 


The next few hours and days were a blur until the weekend when Mr. Warehouse was accepted for a loan at the bank, funnily enough not actually needed for Pooch's Op but to try and better manage his debt and Credit Cards. Timing impeccable, we walked out of that room with a smile on our faces not only meant that we had secured Mr. Warehouse's financial status, but also that we could save our dogs life and in a way ours. A few days later I was nervous as I walked back into the Vets to collect Mr. Warehouse's pooch. What condition was she going to be in? Was she going to recover quickly? Had she peed on the floor in fear after the last time we arrived? But more importantly ... How much is it going to cost our little family financially? It had been a stressful few weeks leading up to that moment but the second the little student nurse brought out our furry baby we knew the decision to operate was the right one. She was so happy, the happiest we had seen her in some time. Her belly wasn't anywhere near as swollen as it once was and in its place was a shaved belly and a six-inch-scar, held together with little stitches. She had a bandage on her paw where she had her IV drip and fluids. Looked like some child had just been playing Doctors and Nurses with her to be honest. But she was defiantly feeling much better it would have seemed. And I suppose you would have felt better too if you saw what was removed. 

The infected womb that was removed was full, bulging and resembled haggis showed the photos took by surgeons. The Pyometra had got to the point of bursting and had even developed a small rupture which was found when the Vet's operated. Mr. Warehouse had been ever-so close to loosing our puppy and we were sure to make the most of life once she was back on her paws. And boy have we. All three of us ran along the freezing but sandy beaches of Great Yarmouth in spring last year, had many trips to the lake for swimming and attempted picnics and even managed a weekend away to Bath in a log cabin by a toasty fire which I think Pooch enjoyed very much. All in all we are so lucky to have her still and make her last few years with us the best they can be ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Regular Pupdate ...

Hiya, 

I was nervous as I walked back into the Vets to collect Mr. Warehouse's pooch. What condition was she going to be in? Was she going to recover quickly? Had she peed on the floor in fear after the last time we arrived? But more importantly ... How much is it going to cost our little family financially?

Several weeks ago as I am sure you regulars to my blog will know, the pup got poorly and after seeing several vets at several different surgeries, Mr. Warehouse and I were faced with the decision no pet owner wants to consider. Our little one had been sick for some time now, constantly licking her downstairs and numerous eye infections we decided that we should get a professional opinion as to what was making her ill. We were told by the Veterinarian that o dog could have what was called a Pyometra which is where the womb fills up with pus and as a result is extremely dangerous and life-threatening without treatment. An open-Pyo is where the cervix has opened up just enough to let the pus seep out which is still serious but can wait for an appointment, however a closed-Pyo will mean it is essentially a ticking time-bomb, getting bigger and bigger and with no-where to go could burst at any moment, killing her. After a few weeks on antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication resulting in her being off her food almost permanently asides a few handfuls of plain cooked pasta, she had made very little improvement. 

Within twenty-four hours after coming off the meds, returning from the Peak District just hours earlier our fluffy got poorly again, signature eye infection and constantly licking her privates. Taking her to the Vets they again couldn't determine as to what was causing her upset. Asking to consult with colleagues we were left to discuss our financial options which were dwindling with every visit we seemed to make to the rubber-floored rooms. With the prospects of a £1,500.00 bill for the operation alone we were nervous of what the Veterinary surgery had to say. Although leaving that night, no closer to an answer we were determined not to give up on her. 

We would find a way, surely there must be a way to get through this and out the other side relevantly unscathed. Every lunch break I called over one-hundred local vets, even as far as Cambridge and St. Albans, forty miles from where we called home. Mr. Warehouse never knew the sleepless nights or evenings I would spend researching charities or funding pages that may be able to help. I must admit though that I did look into the horrific alternative and the costs that it would incur. Every night I was left alone with the TV I would open up my laptop / tablet, pooch sat beside me, and nearly cry my heart out for the lack of help around. 

It had been a stressful few weeks leading up to that moment but the second the little student nurse brought out our furry baby we knew the decision to operate was the right one. She was so happy, the happiest we had seen her in some time. Her belly wasn't anywhere near as swollen as it once was and in its place was a shaved belly and a six-inch-scar, held together with little stitches. She had a bandage on her paw where she had her IV drip and fluids. Looked like some child had just been playing Doctors and Nurses with her to be honest. But she was defiantly feeling much better it would have seemed. And I suppose you would have felt better too if you saw what was removed. 

The infected womb that was removed was full, bulging and resembled haggis. The Pyometra had got to the point of bursting and had even developed a small rupture which was found when the Vet's operated. Mr. Warehouse had been ever-so close to loosing our pup and we were sure to make the most of life once she was back on her paws. Already booked we had an adventure to the seaside for the first Spring Bank Holiday in the May, all three amigo's heading off to Great Yarmouth to allow Pooch a run along the shore, sand in between her paws and lots of new sights and smells to explore. But Shhh ... Its a secret - Although I am sure you won't tell her!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Hitting Peak!

Hello, 

After what seemed like an eternity we had finally arrived. Right in the heart of the Peak District, miles from anyone or anything. The thought there was idealistic, although the reality of booking somewhere far away from Wifi, strong enough signal to Google-Map and just general civilisation was far from what I expected. But with the flakes of snow beginning to fall from the dusky sky, landscape littered with peaks and rolling hills of country park ready to explore with pooch we were excited for our mini weekend in the Peak District. 

As for Pup, she was still not back to herself but I really think that she enjoyed her surprise of snowy landscapes and hundreds of fields to run about in. She even made some friends with the neighbouring flock of sheep. Pooch was still not eating properly and despite bringing dog food and trying in-vain to get her to eat that, it was small handfuls of pasta that seemed to work. I suppose as a parent would we went back to what we know and both Mr. Warehouse and I knew she would struggle to resist the pull of some Penne. Saying that though we did try her this morning and she seemed to enjoy eating her normal dog food, albeit just the canned wet stuff. 

Settling into our little stone-brick home for the next few nights Mr. Warehouse and I were perplexed with the smell and list of odd house rules. One of the reasons we booked was for the use of the log burning fire / stove and when the house rules said that it was forbidden I was gutted to say the least, especially since our trip to York just before Christmas. Nevertheless we would make it our own, but with very limited signal and no Wifi we were a bit put out with the bare-basic accommodation. Relaxing into the comfy leather loungers in the front room I was more than ready for bed.. So after a trip to the nearest town to collect a Takeout (a forty-minute hilly and country-dirt-track drive I might add) and a little bit of telly Mr. Warehouse and I hit the sack. 

The following day we decided to head out to Bakewell, a small village known worldwide for their tarts. But rumour would have it that the humble Bakewell tart is not the original of his tasty ancestors, oh no! It would appear to all intense and purposes that the creation of the Bakewell Pudding as it was traditionally called was a simple misunderstanding between a Mistress and her Kitchen Assistant who, in her inexperience in such a role made a puff pastry rather than a shortcrust and ergo you now have the pastry-that's-not-a-pastry delight - Bakewell Pudding. After my Frangipane fling it will certainly be a recipe I will have to attempt and maybe even tweek at home.  One thing I would say is that most places in  the Peak District, including Bakewell are very receptive to dogs and are more than happy to have them in their shops, restaurants and pubs, a point which we unfortunately discovered alone, whilst our pooch was back at the holiday cottage. 

Saturday we headed to Buxton, home of the water in the UK and the countries leading Spa town. Not that we had a lot of that going on. It was snowing for yet again the third day in a row and whilst it was entertaining in the morning on our walks and rambles with doggy, it was becoming tiresome having to manage peaks, hills, mountains and narrow country lanes as well as the poor weather conditions. It made everything worse. Mr. Warehouse and I couldn't go for a walk or mooch about the shops or even have a potter without having to be dressed up to the nines in coats, hats, scarf's and gloves. After a few hours we headed home to the wilderness and watched a film or two. 

The last day is always the worst, packing up and heading home back to real life again. Truth be told I was looking forward to some Internet and being able to just pop to the shops for something, not having a long-winded trip to get there and I certainly wont be sorry for those roads. Although I must say that since being back, if even for less than twenty-four hours I am starting to miss the gear changes and whizzing round the country-side. Having been there as a child I thought a nice place to go would be The Heights of Abraham, just outside Matlock Bath. On even a dull and overcast day it would have been passable, but when the weather was beating down on us like a parent on an errant child, snowing, raining and windy it was far from the best choice. Cable car up, a quick walk around and hot cocoa later we were back down and heading to the car, bound for home. Real home. Gutted I wasn't able to experience and share my childhood in part with my boyfriend and his pooch I felt deflated and upset, but as I drove the two and a bit hours home, I realised that we have shared in some classic memories that we will all remember and cherish forever. 

Back home we have just arrived back from the Vets and they have not said as yet either way what sort of operation she will need next. As last week it will either be a full blown Pyometra operation to remove her pus-filled and inflamed womb, or just a simple spaying. The difference in price will be drastic but even the cheaper Op. of the two will be pricey. Here's hoping that tomorrow's phone call with the Vet will bring about good news and that her results will show something that wont break the bank. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole

Good Evening,

So I start this tale back last week, Thursday evening to be precise and as it would so happen I had just bumbled in from work when I noticed the pooch had a gunky eye, closed and sore looking. She had not been well for some days, not eating properly, if at all that was and a complete loss of interest in us as owners and the other things she used to love and enjoy. Mr. Warehouse and I wondered if it was something more serious. And so bundling her into my Ford Fiesta we raced her round to the Vets.

Looking over her the lovely Russian lady took swabs of her eyes and also quizzed us both on our dog's habits and traits over the last few days and weeks. Mr. Warehouse proceeded to tell her that she had been prescribed some medicine for a water infection a couple of weeks ago and it had seemed to clear it up but she had done a little accident two days earlier, which he put down to just being excited, although I and the Vet disagreed.

Holding our pup down to get more swaps and examinations from ears, mouth and bottom we started to get worried when we explained she had not eaten for some time. I explained that since she was originally owned by the Brother of Mr. Warehouse, she had not been spayed. This information seemed to turn the Vet white with anxiety. Then come a wave of odd questions that were all answered pretty much with a yes from both myself and Mr. Warehouse. The Veterinarian seemed very concerned and asked our permission to take bloods to see her vitals and how good she was doing internally. I asked the question about what could be wrong with our darling pooch and how if anything can make it better.

"She has what is called a Pyometra which is where the womb fills up with pus and as a result is extremely dangerous and life-threatening without treatment. An open-Pyo is where the cervix has opened up just enough to let the pus seep out which is still serious but can wait a few weeks for an appointment, however a closed-Pyo will mean it is essentially a ticking time-bomb, getting bigger and bigger and with no-where to go could burst at any moment, killing her." Said the Vet.

Shaking I asked about what we can do and what as owners our options were. She talked through the various routes we had out of this mess but ultimately the cost was not in the ten's anymore, nor even the hundreds but at least a thousand pounds or more to treat an otherwise very simply prevented illness. I couldn't take it. My rage filling up inside that this was what we had to deal with because of someone else's negligence. It became too much and I started to tremble. The Veterinarian took some more swabs from doggies undercarriage and said that since there is not leakage that Mr. Warehouse and I had to prepare for the worst.

Going away to talk we left our sickly pup in the hands of what would have appeared to be a very, very good Pet Doctor. And no-one had kept her up to date on her vaccinations as a puppy and as an adult dog, her insurance had been invalidated years ago. Without it we were left in a very desperate situation. Pulling out of the Surgery I trundled down the road, slow and steady with tears filling my eyes. As I stopped in a lay-by on a residential street I switched off the engine as Mr. Warehouse croaked, asking why we had stopped here.

"We have a lot to talk about" I said, hoping that magically we would find the money or a solution would come to us in the darkness, only lit by street lamps. Watching the cars windows steam with little talk and more silent tears, all I could see were dog walkers. We were one of them. We still are one of them. And we need to find a way to fix her. She is our dog and Mr. Warehouse and I need to be strong for her because for every moment we have had a shitty day or been poorly or unhappy she has been there for us. Not just that but we have got so many things left to do together. We still have yet to run on the sandy beaches of Newquay, Hop on a ferry for a holiday in Jersey where we can bask in the sunshine, just meters from french soil and even for her to maybe host in some of life's biggest moments Mr. Warehouse and I will share.

I have never personally owned a dog before and I would like to say that being a part of her life has and will continue to be a pleasure. She has taught me things about life and myself I never knew before and I keep learning, through my little lab, that there are the little things in life that should be noticed and appreciated and cherished within and with others. Yes, we may not be the best dog owners as both Mr. Warehouse and I go out to work five days a week, but that is reality and I will be honest, I think she enjoys having her own time to herself, not being told off for being on the wrong side of the sofa or for licking her biscuit (AKA Fanny). We treat her very well indeed and give her all the love and attention a pooch could ask for. 

The next few hours and days were a blur until Saturday when Mr. Warehouse and I were accepted for a loan at the bank. Walking out of that room with a smile on our faces not only meant that we had secured Mr. Warehouse's debt and credit cards, but also that we could save our dogs life and in a way ours. She is still on antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication, but hopefully she will be on the mend soon enough. Her eye is now fully restored and whilst she is still not eating proper dog food, her appetite I think is very slowly, slowly creeping back in to view. I certainly think that the most recent activities in our little household will almost certainly make for a more romantic and loving break away to the Peak District and a time to reflect on what we have and how long for ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx