Three is the magic number. Or is it six?

“Dad! Milo’s operation site is swelling like a ping-pong ball. Oh my God!”

A strange sense of deja-vu washes over me as GT (Girl Teenager) panics about an unusual occurrence in Milo’s (the Sprocker pup) nether regions. Just as well I’m a canine first-aider who happens to know about these swellings. Mainly because I’ve previously phoned the vet about said occurrence (see last blog. I’m still banned).

”It’s fine. He’s just getting the beginnings of an erection”.

”OH MY GOD! EWWWW! YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO TELL ME THAT!”

And so it came to pass the Milo’s perfectly functioning winky-woo has caused trouble several weeks in a row. For everyone but him.

And that’s not the only bother we’ve had. They say that things come in threes. Despite being very careful during the hot and humid weather, the pup suffered from heat exhaustion after a 10 minute, on-lead stroll at 7.30pm. The poor fella scared the Beejasus out of us by suddenly going blank, staring as if he couldn’t see, and tilting his head at a weird angle. It looked like he was having a stroke or seizure and it was a huge relief when he started to come back to normal after 10 minutes of cooling him with wet towels and a fan. Bloody hell, dog ownership is one of the least straight forward things we’ve ever done!

Mind, it probably didn’t help that the central heating was switching on when the boiler was supposed to be heating the water tank only. Just what you need when it is 29 degrees and so humid even the ducks are sweating. The motorised two-way valves on our heating system have failed more often than Ray Charles on a driving test. Absolutely useless pieces of kit.

And if that wasn’t enough, somebody has been throwing nails about on the roads somewhere between Coulsdon and West Sussex and, you guessed it, the Merc now has a studded rear tyre. All this just after we’ve set a fixed monthly budget of cashing in investments to fund living until I can earn some moolah. That Chaos fella is playing with us again isn’t he?

But good news! What a few weeks it has been for BT (Boy Teenager). As you will know if you’ve followed these ramblings, BT has made real progress in the last 14 months, steadily overcoming challenges that have dogged him for three years. It probably shouldn’t have come as any surprise then that he announced that he wanted to go to That London with his mates during their half-term. On his own. On the train. And he wanted to leave at 10 in the morning and come back home at tea time. Bloody hell! This from the lad that 3 years ago couldn’t face going into the back garden, that wouldn’t answer the front door 14 months ago, and who’s cyclical sleep pattern (drifting all the way around the clock every 6 weeks) made arranging anything rather complicated. And yet here he was, telling us he was off out all day, morning to tea-time. Blimey.

Come the day, it was raining steadily. First hurdle, BT only has a winter rain-coat. He decided to go in a hoodie and told us to stop making a fuss. He was also having a spot of bother with his phone battery, which has the staying power of a paper-mache hat in a thunderstorm. Armed with advice on how to put it into low-power mode (which of course he didn’t), off he went. Naturally all of this caused Gin to hit the bottle (most things do), her maternal instinct set to “It will all go wrong!”. Lunchtime came around and we guessed that he would be in McDonalds. To our utter astonishment, he was in a smart Italian restaurant on Great Portland Street; a picture of his lunch (adorned with two types of cheese and a basil leaf) arrived via WhatsApp, along with the message that they hadn‘t been able to make the restaurant’s ordering app work, so he had spoken to a waitress. He had spoken to the Waitress! Another step on his journey. And to top it off, he went clothes shopping and came home with some clobber. What a day! WHAT A DAY!

As if to keep us in a permanent state of astonishment, the next thing we know he was making a 14 point plan of things that he will do to make himself happy (which is a classic mechanism to help manage anxiety; don’t know where he got the idea, but glad that he did). Some of it is apparently simple (establish a daily routine), and some of it more complex (understand how to trade stocks and shares and start to research). And he’s been getting on with it. Slowly, but on with it all the same. I can‘t quite believe that I can commit this to electronic media (who needs paper?), but I can. That little kernel of optimism that was growing a few months ago is sprouting! Let’s hope it turns into a mighty oak.

[Chaos update: BT’s phone has just died. Good grief. Do things come in sixes?].

Elsewhere, GT has emerged from her year-1 A-Level exams rather tired and a bit wobbly, but doing OK. Also turns out that she’s a chip off the old block and is playing Advanced Dungeons & Dragons weekly (shut it! It’s a fabulously complex game which is only constrained by the imaginations of the players. So there). She had her whole Dungeon Crew round to play it face-to-face for the day; God the noise! Are a group of teenage girls normally this loud? And like a swarm of locusts when it comes to snacks? She had a great day, and it was so nice to see her relaxing and doing something other than college stuff.

Gin has been even more frantically busy, having been given some more responsibility at work and running a big project. She only need a couple more promotions and I can scrap this silly notion of having to earn some money. Definitely at least Deputy Head material (go on Gin, you want to really. No, you do). Sadly in the meanwhile I continue to ponder some sort of gainful employment as my golfing trips away with the boys won’t finance themselves (and yes there has been one to Breadsall Priory in Derbyshire. Magnificent and wonderful to be away with three chums, eating and drinking a tad too much and mis-hitting the small, white ball too frequently, and Winning. Oh yes.).

But more good news! I’m, now a qualified Canine First Aider so, in theory, can proceed to set up the dog walking business. I say “in theory” because there is still a chance of some work-from-home stuff with the old place, although not really sure how likely it is to come about. It’s surprisingly frustrating knowing that you have to generate an income, being able to set one thing in motion, but not wanting to in case this other thing comes off. I’ll have to set myself a deadline to make a decision or Grumpy Old Man will be in da house. Again.

Anyway that’s another few weeks done. But no it isn’t! I‘ve not mentioned Gin’s 39th (again) birthday, or delayed Christmas Dinner with Nana & Pops. It was an interesting experience, locking the hound out of the Dining Room whilst the family sat in it, and it worked pretty well. Now just need to figure out how we can make it work for real Christmas with 16 of Granny’s side of the family occupying the spaces that Milo usually does! I tell you what though, it must be weird being Australian, eating roast turkey in mid-summer.

And with that we roll forward to the next extended, immovable lock-down deadline in July. Stay safe chums.

Love and elbow-grease,

Mr H

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