It seems that everyone in the house, with the exception of me, has chicken farts. GG went to the Friday market today to get a chicken to celebrate George’s big 17. When I came upstairs to the kitchen, she was seated at our big table with all of the cats circling the area and George bouncing up and down like a jack in the box. Henry was sensibly waiting his turn under his blanket in his basket.

A feast was had by all of the omnivores. As can be expected, they all now have terrible chicken farts. While no one has yet fainted, I have the doors to the garden open as a precaution. 😉

George is sleeping next to me, dreaming of getting the whole chicken next time and with a side of fries. Olive is sitting next to me, purring. Henry is walking around, practicing for his next big adventure. Friday night in the village. 😉

The boys got their rabies shots this week and their annual check up. At the end of the month, we will be leaving for a temporary relocation to Spain. People are restricted to one carry on size trolley and a laptop bag. The dogs have their own bag and then the rest of the room in the car will be for the banjo. I am frantically trying to learn enough Spanish before we go so that I can communicate for the basics.

We had a young vet this week so there was no conversation about the five questions to ask yourself about when it is time to put your pet to sleep. As usual, I was the most anxious being in the room. She let me fly with my list of questions and stayed super calm and positive. They took a biopsy on a growth that Henry has on his chest and it turns out it is still just fat. Turns out the oldest dog in their practice is 19 and then it’s Henry and George for the tie.

PU… George just let another one fly. Oxygen masks from the ceiling, please!

It’s rainy and chilly outside compared to the past few weeks. Henry is on the bottom layer of the pet pile, under a thick blanket. On the other side of the blanket, Pickle is curled up against him having finished with wreaking havoc on the outside world. With his back against Pickle’s, George is doing is best imitation of a being a member of the Snore Orchestra.

Yesterday we celebrated Henry’s 17th birthday. It was a quieter celebration this year, no wild party at the park or kegs of beer. Instead he woke up to a dog massage, lots of hugs and gratitude that he is still here with us. He did get organic raw beef for dinner instead of a McDonald’s cheeseburger. He didn’t seem to mind the difference.

Later on the evening, he did get a small piece of pizza crust. I am amazed by his drive. He’s quite fragile now and yet when he wants to resist something, it’s like trying to push over a German Shepherd. Or perhaps it’s that he looks fragile as he is mostly bald now and we underestimate that steady, stubborn dachshund streak. What has changed is that he is much more relaxed about being held. The boys have always been the kind of dogs who would cuddle up next to you but didn’t like being held. Maybe that is small dog street smarts – like don’t pick me up, stranger danger!

Now there are multiple times in the day where I can pick him up and hold him in my lap and he just sits there and hangs out. It’s particularly soothing (for me anyway) when I am videocalling. It could also be that he is cold. We’ll find out when we leave for Spain at the end of October for a month to live in a village.

Happy Birthday, Henry! Thank you for all the love you give. We love you!