Archie (top dog in the Alstead-Mingay household) is sick. Not just sick but really, really poorly. It's been a traumatic day.
He has got something wrong in his head, it's affecting his balance, his ability to walk and perform normal doggie functions - and yes, I do mean all normal doggie functions, so on top of his poorly state, it's not been a terrific day here.
DM and I both think the world of this old chap of indeterminate age. He's somewhere between 11 and 14 but we can't be any more accurate than that. We're both in agony and he's somewhere strange. The vet says that he thinks it's like waking up with a monumental hangover that rest, sleep, darkness and quiet are the main treatments for - he's also had a thermometer somewhere not-so-nice and a jab in the neck (steroids). Tomorrow, he's got to go through the difficulties of going back to the vet and we're desperately hoping for a magical recovery by morning.
Roy Hattersley was right (I've just finished Buster's Secret Diaries) - he said there can't be a God because if there was, he'd make dogs live as long as humans! I hope the Archduke of Cornwall lives to fight another day....the next few hours are critical.