We went to the vet's the other day for Vita's tick vaccination (after Smudge I'm taking no chances).
Her check-up included a reluctant moment on the scales (which are very scary). Even more scary, she's twenty-eight kilos! She was twenty-five a few months back. Even Clara, who was a BIG Airedale and everybody assumed was male, only reached twenty-eight.
It's true, Vita's been looking a bit podgy round the backside and cuddly along the middle - not much evidence of ribcage - but it was a shock to discover just how much she now weighs. So NO treats and only two chicken wingtips for breakfast and three for her evening meal. Which means between-times she hoovers up every crumb in sight.
It's a grey afternoon, cold and raining again, so stuck inside and a tad stir-crazy (where does that phrase come from?) I try to make nutella flapjacks without treacle (which I find makes them too sweet). The outcome is a resounding failure as the oats haven't really glued together. Still Tod will have some crunchy bits to mix with his breakfast cereal and the burnt nutella-ry bits of oat flake do taste rather good.
Vita's come to join me at the computer, front paws plonked on my lap, head across my keyboard, she's finishing the non-flapjack bits on my plate that I've missed.