Thursday morning, 8.00 am. I got a phone call from my mother to go over straight away, she didn’t feel well. So forget my coffee, load Rassi into the car and straight over to find my mother sitting in her chair, not at all well. I had to go and get her some hydrating drink because she had been vomiting and had obviously lost a lot of the salts and electrolytes from her body.
She had a drink, and after a few minutes, started to feel better and even had something light to eat, which she managed to keep down. I stayed for a few hours, then, when she was feeling a bit better (the shaking had stopped and she had kept her food down), I left and she went back to bed.
When I left I decided to go and check the mail at Reynella, and I could also have a coffee and Rassilon could get patted. There was competition at the cafe though. A Staffordshire Bull Terrier. Rassi was reasonably happy to go and say hello, but the Staffy was pulling on it’s leash and jumping at people (in a friendly way). It too was 4 years old, but didn’t seem to have had much obedience training. After the initial meeting (when it raced over to Rassilon), he was happy to ignore it.
But Rassilon just stood by me, (belly resting on my knee), and it turns out that more people prefer a calm, gentle, tall, skinny dog than a hyperactive smaller dog, because a lot more people were happy to come up to Rassi and pat him, rather that have the Staffy jumping at them. Rassilon was in his glory when parents let their young children pat him (because the Staffy was too rough for little kids).
This morning we went over to my mother to go shopping and she was up and doing the dishes. She worked out what the problem had been. She was given a lot of new tablets when she had her heart problem and went into hospital.
Last week she had a “medication specialist” nurse come to visit and talk about all the medication. The nurse changed the order she was to take her tablets, it was after that my mother started to feel bad, so yesterday she went back to the way the hospital had given them to her, the result…NOT SICK and FEELING BETTER. So much for experts!
December 3rd. That is the day I go to a meeting of the Therapy Dog Service. I got an email on Wednesday advising me of the date, and they know what sort of dog I have because I wrote and told them and included a picture.
Did you know that if all the McDonald s workers in the world were to stand hand in hand… you would have to get your own hamburger.