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I don't want this to be maudlin, but I find it very difficult to leave the house and get busy when at any moment he might cry for help. Spousie had to go to town today and didn't need me there so I stayed home twiddling my thumbs. At one point I got dressed, went down the hill, did a tiny bit of weeding and then felt guilty about leaving my sick boys alone, so I clambered back up again.
Whilst in town Spousie had popped in to see the locum vet. The vets who know our two sick boys very well are on mat/paternity leave and are hopefully now in receipt of a little Elmo toy :-) The locum vet understood. Homer is a very old boy and we just want to be kind. She offered a tin of 'convalescence' food. Well Homer hasn't eaten anything in days, but it was worth a try. Anything is worth a try!
Homer had hardly moved all day, just struggled up to his feet a couple of times and then struggled back down again. At dusk I realised I hadn't taken any photos at all the entire day so once more I pointed the camera at dear Homer prone on the floor.
Within seconds of taking this photo, Spousie walked in and whistled. The dog got up, walked unsteadily towards the man with a slowly wagging tail. The tin of convalescence food was proffered and eaten, followed by a whole fresh egg straight from the hen-house minus its gossamer-flimsy shell. Slowly tail-wagging doggie seemed happy enough to bimble/dither his way outside. Terminally ill but feisty stripey cat was foiled in his attempt to steal his best friend's dinner.

Homer's Oddyssey
We first met Homer on Friday 20th October 2006 at an ouzeri called Apolavsi (happiness) in Skopelos Town. Townies had been telling us for quite a while that there was a rather lovely English setter running with the street dog pack because they knew we wanted a dog, though of course we would have preferred a puppy. As we sat there, the pack arrived and we were able to take a close look at the setter. Spousie checked his teeth and his eyes, the dog was perfectly compliant and the general conclusion was that he was probably about 18 months old and yes we would adopt him.
But, we were bunking off to England for a couple of important birthday parties in only 10 days time so we decided that the best plan was to leave him hanging around with the street pack until our return in mid-November, and start from there if he was still around. Our townie friends wagged their fingers. No, you take him now. We will look after him for you while you are gone and when you come back you can collect him from us. These same people had already told us that they would look after Taz and Heidi, our kittens, but perhaps that was because they had foisted those same kittens upon us only a handful of weeks earlier.
We agreed. We bought some dog food, put the dog in the car and drove him to our house that same Friday evening.
By Sunday morning the entire street pack as well as any pet dogs with enough freedom to run around town had been killed with poison. The setter had had a very lucky escape.

. . . to be continued

Inset; 27th October 2006 “I'll be the judge of that” Homer at 18 months having been with us for only a week. During the day he lived on sheets of cardboard under the outside stairs with a very long chain but his standard of living did improve very quickly.