Since I am going out of my mind with worry and I have cleaned the car inside and out, washed windows and curtains, painted doors, polished the kitchen floor until you can see your face in it - bit spooky here because I cannot either wash off or polish out Dashs footprints - lost a considerable amount of weight, but not a diet I would recommend, I thought I would unload on you chaps with a poem - here goes nothing:-

My dear Wee Dash in intensive care,
Two ops to-date, how will he fare,
A spleen removed, it was enlarged,
The stomach checked out and lavaged.
Ultra sounds, blood tests and more,
Urine samples - stitches galore,
Temperature raging he is too hot,
No-one knows what Dash has got,
Cardiograph and more x-rays,
Throughout all this his Mum just prays.

No dirty paw prints on the floor,
No muddly marks right up the door,
No dinner bowls need washing up,
No secret slurp from Mums teacup,
No crumpled duvets there to wash,
They lie there now all clean and posh,
No walks, no runs, no coat to brush,
The house lies still - there is a hush,
The empty sofa where he lays,
Throughout all this his Mum just prays.

Desperate with worry on tenterhooks,
Nothing shows up in the medical books,
Awaiting phone calls to find out,
Just what this illness is all about,
My dearest friend lies desperately ill,
Could someone come up with a magic pill,
To restore dear Dash to his former health,
For this I would give up all of my wealth.

Your generous words, the kindest thought
Mean much to me, when I'm so distraught
I'm stick with worry, I cannot rest,
Even though everyone is doing their best,
I hope ye gods are listening in,
My Wee Dash has committed no sin,
For all he has suffered in these past years,
He deserves a life without any cares,
The loyalist of dogs, so honest and true,
I hope and I pray, he will pull through.

Celia