polo anyone?

dear readers, i must apologise for the long silence in these parts. as you will recall, i have something of a gammy shoulder. it all started with a little misunderstanding between myself and my lady friend. it seems that in spite of copious doses of pink pills for pale pooches i am still harbouring a myriad of microbes (i have been honing my writing skills whilst i was indisposed - the preceding sentence is what is known as alliteration).

anyway, the long and the short of it is that i have had to have another operation. this time it involved the evil vet removing quite a bit of my shoulder and stitching up an even longer scar. i have another drain which is rather messier than the previous one. we had to go along this morning for the evil vet to make sure i was still vertical. he had a little peek at the scar and said i would need a bit of it sorted. there was talk of staples and guns but in the end glue seemed to be the answer. this was a bit of a relief.

while we were there herself rather foolishly mentioned to the evil vet that i have a blog. not only that, she is planning to send him the address. so i will have to stop calling him 'the evil vet' and think of something more flattering, otherwise i might find my paws glued together which would make it even harder to become a famous writer. i thought an anagram might be good. however, herself pointed out to me that 'the vile vet' would be equally offensive. so i will call him 'the live vet'. but you will all know what i mean...

anyway, as the peeps are trying to sell the house, my wound, drain and bloodstained t-shirts are something of a problem. it wouldn't do for people to come round and find me lying on my bed (which herself has thoughtfully kitted out with red sheets to hide the worst of the carnage) pouring gore out of a pipe. it would take a person of a very robust nature to pay attention to the finer points of domestic architecture in such circumstances.

so my lady friend and i are placed in the car while punters mooch round the house. i spend the time wearing my sunglasses and praying that none of the local dogs go past and see me. we have run out of sensible t-shirts so i have graduated to my boy's old school polo shirts. as you can see from the photo i look a right lemon. i think the collar is a step too far. how am i supposed to keep any credibility when i look like i sing in a choir?