Xena, Enron & Mediterranean Yearnings

Xena’s been losing a lot of weight recently though she’s eating her normal amount and then some. At first I thought the weight loss was worms, but I wormed her and she’s still emaciated. She’s still quite frisky at the beach though she sleeps most of the day. I’ll be surprised if she’s alive a year from now which, of course, makes me feel like the Highlander: In the end there will be but One.

Still I wasn’t prepared for what happened yesterday. As I was walking her she had what looked like a seizure. She was dawdling by some bushes, I gave her leash an impatient tug and then noticed I had actually dragged her a couple of feet, she couldn’t move. Then she fell over on her side, began making odd movements. Convulsions? Or merely an attempt to right herself?

I picked her up, walked home with her in my arms. Sat with her on my lap, reading Lush Life. Do gangsters have dogs? Thought about calling the vet, but really – what would they say? Xena’s 14, had a good life. I’ve known Jack Russells who’ve lived to 19 but 14 is a respectable spate of years for a dog. Tried to interest her in some chicken but she just lay there trembling, making this strange noise. Coughing? Or was she trying to throw up?

This continued after the various men folk came home. Robin called Max who said he would come down on Saturday. We were all certain Xena was going to die and Ben slept by her basket to keep her company.

The strange coughing/honking/barking kept up till five in the morning.

And then abruptly – Xena was fine. A little residual wobble maybe but wagging her tail, jumping on to beds, demanding to be petted and fed.

So what happened to her? A heart attack? A stroke? Did she nibble some tasty ant poison on that walk?

In other news, much needed rains came – but they washed out my mood so I’ve been doodling Mediterranean landscapes:



And some kind of breakthrough on the Enron chapter yesterday – at least the dialogue isn’t quite so cutesy. Although dialogue alone can never convey the surreal nature of the actual experience. When I lard it up with status detail, though, it reads like Jackie Collins. It’ll be better on the rewrite.

Writing to specification is difficult.