I always thought that I was invisible without the dog. Apparently not. His absence has been noted, with wishes for a speedy recovery.

Today's the day Woody has his op. Everything crossed.

Poor Woody is in the wars. The vet says that he has an entropion, his eyelid has turned in and is rubbing his eye. He's likely going to have to have an operation.

Ten years ago yesterday, I started training with Woody. Where has the time gone?

The podiatrist is very pleased with my feet. Triphasic pulse everywhere in my feet, and zero pressure sores or infections.

RIP Giles - you were a gold blend

Wax on. Wax off.

With acrobatics, a ladder and incantations of industrial Anglo Saxon, I managed to fit the shower curtain. Even managed to whack my head on the ceiling. It's going to stay there, unless it evolves and attains sentience.

Woody is having his op no later than June, depending on which vet performs the procedure. Then he'll recuperate in the capable hands of Kate Rix who'll take no nonsense from him.