puddleshark

Charm visited me in my dreams last night. She trotted up the road to the house - in her most elevated, 14.3-pretending-to-be-eighteen-hands trot - neck arched, her copper coat shining. She looked so well.

In the dream I shooed her off the road and into the back garden, where two strangers appeared and spoke admiringly of her. Maybe they were spirits too.

Perhaps she came to lend me some of her strength again, like the old days.

***

Had a long chat with the vet yesterday. He's certain now that Max has a nail-bed tumour, but his opinion was, "This is one of those rare occasions where I recommend we do nothing." Max's front paws are in already too poor a condition, flat and splayed, to make surgery advisable.

So we just carry on as we are, for as long as Max is happy. And he's happy now: he's still putting weight on that paw, he's alert, and his tail wags, and he's as keen on his food as ever. And if some mornings he doesn't want to go for a walk, that's fine.