Off again...

So!

Final night.

Thank fuck for that.

I shall miss the stories this place generates, and I shall miss the technical aspects of it... but there's a lot of crap I won't miss. Eight week old puppies dying at four in the morning is definitely one of them.

When I arrived this evening I saw written on the board that we had a St Bernard in. OMG, I thought. Knowing my bloody luck it'll be collapsed and I'll have to turn it every couple of hours.

Goodbye spine, I thought.

"We have a St Bernard in...?" I said to the day nurse. She grinned at me.

"Guess how big it is," she said.

Oh God.

"Seventy kilos...?"

If it's any more than that I'm going to be dead by morning, I thought.

"Go and look."

I went into the kennels, looked in - and then down.

He's eleven weeks old, and had managed to inhale a bit of bramble bush when galumphing through it this morning with his friend (who is a cross between a Bernese mountain dog and a Newfoundland. Man, that owner must be REALLY into drool). Stupid dog, but it does mean I've had a tremendously cute pup to cuddle this evening!

So, end of yet another era. *Sigh*

I can really do without all this reorganisation of life... stability, please?