This is an unusual photo in that Galileo and Florence are on the sofa together.
Normally it’s either one or the other, with the privileged position being vigorously defended.
Galileo was lying next to Florence until he saw me get my camera.
This is the sofa opposite Clive’s bed.
There’s no doubt that it’s comfortable, but there also seems to be a great deal of prestige attached to sleeping on it.
Both the dogs insist on occupying it alone, and will drive the other off.
How come they’re both on it now, you ask? Well it’s because I was squeezed between them till a moment ago, acting as a buffer, and then slipped away leaving them fast asleep!
Galileo is addicted to the sofa.
I’m not sure he’d get up there if I made it clear he mustn’t, but I can’t help feeling he’d suffer emotional damage if refused such a safe and comfortable refuge.
Same with the bed.
But here he’s all set with the tv remote controls. The one thing lacking is a take-away pizza.
As soon as we got him home, Galileo made a beeline for his favourite hidey-hole where he’s spent most of his time since then.
He’s being very clean, making the effort to go outside for all bodily functions.
He woke me in the night, trying to climb onto the sofa to sleep next to me.
In short, he’s not far off his usual self.
Today we had visits from a couple of technicians to put right the various problems with the equipment.
A female rehabilitation doctor also arrived with a massive entourage. They crowded in the doorway, too many to count, and since Clive always moves like an orang-utan from hand-hold to hand-hold under his own steam, he could see little point in their presence and asked that they wait outside.
Which they did, chatting and smoking, thick on the ground as the buds in the photo.
Only one gorilla-like male came in, once, to move our own pole which Clive needed to raise himself from the sofa – where he’d taken refuge late last night after the bed finally gave up the ghost.
When we first arrived back from France, in August last, we had a pole made, bolted to a wooden foot which wedges under the sofa, for Clive to try to haul himself up by.
Today he stood up, unaided, and then for the first time took both hands off the pole.
Just to reinforce the point, he put his hands in his pockets!
There’s a long way to go yet – many a step before he’s mobile. But all progress so far has been achieved without any help from the authorities who are still wading through some bureaucratic bog.
The clingy Scarce Swallowtail Butterfly has featured in a blog post before, although not this particular photo. It looks as if it’s just about to take flight.
The photo shows our drive in November, wending away from the house.
A year ago to the day, with the help of two friends, we drove up it on our way to Britain for Clive to have treatment for his lymphedema.
He didn’t come home for more than 9 months. When he did return, almost 3 months ago, he was deposited on the sofa, unable to walk. He still can’t walk – can’t even get on his feet – and his world consists of everything he can see from that sofa.
In the next few posts, as I follow the anniversaries of those fateful few initial days, I’ll recount how it all came about.