It's been a tough few weeks. I've gone from feeling strong to the opposite; from feeling quite together, to feeling splayed and unformed.
I've had a cold for a few weeks, my voice has been patchy at best for the whole time so far. It shows no sign of buggering off either; and it's not even a good cold, it's just a low-level crapness. So no exercise, and because of deadlines (this is my busiest time of year by some distance) I have done little other than work, look after kids, and sleep.
I'm glad I deferred the races.
But also... Fernster got a puppy just before Christmas, and tomorrow she goes to be euthanised. The poor wee girl never stood a chance thanks to the shitheads that bred her; she is a bright, sweet border collie pup, born with a likelihood of brain damage thanks to her genes, and which has manifested itself in obsessive behaviour and huge anxiety. It's like she is locked in. We know she loves us, but we also know we see less and less of her each day; we have had many conversations with experts, different vets, nurses, people working in dog rescue, collie associations, and they all agree this is about as good as her life will be, and there is every chance that she will turn nasty. Not out of choice, but out of frustration because, allied with her total deafness, she cannot be trained or have any semblance of normality in her life. Her first month or so were spectacular, Farley adores her and vice versa, but since then it's been a steep slide downhill.
I know it's the best thing, the right thing, to do, especially with very young children in the house, but still... Fuck.
In other news, there is no other news. Work remains work, everything else ticks along.