The Saga of Ginger

Yes, faithful readers, I should be sunning myself on the Italian Riviera right about now, but, alas, I am not. Instead, I'm working at my kitchen table, keeping a close eye on the 15-year-old dog at my feet.

I abruptly left Geneva after calls from my dog-sitter and my vet informing me that Ginger's hind end had given out, she could not stand or walk on her own and I should come home immediately.


I don't know if the drugs they gave her are masking the reality or if she just wanted me home, but she seems fine to me. Yes, she's old and creaky, but I see none of the emergency that brought me home. I'm hoping to get in to see the vet today for a follow-up and an explanation. Fingers crossed.

(This photo was taken the day after I got home.)