Even Dogs Get School Holidays

After a manic few days, I finally get some quality time with L, albeit at 5.30am.

L then has a bit of a disaster when she nips to Sainsbury's, locks her bike up outside and then realises that she's mislaid the key for her lock. So she had to leave her bike there, go home for the key and then rescue it later. Oh dear, she won't be happy. Wednesday is her late night at work; her boss is already running late and now this. Might be midnight before she gets home.

There's a chap in the news, a 25-year-old whose idea of a good night out is around 60 cigarettes, at least nine bottles of beer, several shorts and an occasional dabble in drugs. His alcohol units often topped 100 for the week. So they scanned his brain to see what effect this lifestyle was having on him and they found that it had resulted in a brain age of 68. His girlfriend was shocked to find out she was going out with someone who had the brain of a pensioner and apparently the libido to go with it (no disrespect to any up for it OAP's). So she promptly put him on a diet of healthy living.

After several weeks, he was retested and his brain age came in at 18 years, a massive drop and a testament to all his hard work but does his girlfriend really want to share their flat with an 18-year-old. Get him back on the beer immediately.

In the car again today as Mini Doggo is at the vets for his first injection this evening. As we leave to do the deed, Doggo tries to join us. I advise him that he really doesn't want to... he really hates the vets.

Despite getting treated by Doggo's least favourite vet, the one who put her fingers up his bottom, Mini Doggo takes it all in his stride, as he seems to do most things.

I cook curry before heading off to dog training, our last Wednesday session before the summer break. Even dogs get school holidays.