Spike had a new ultrasound and is holding his own. The bladder cancer tumor is growing but slowly. Cinnamon is fine. We've kept the dog of a couple where the wife died about four weeks ago and the 80 year old husband is trying to become a dog person. If you remember the movie ?As Good As It Gets" this pup is the same breed: a Brussels Griffon (sp?) only 4 pounds and two years old. Maybe due to all that has gone on, she (Lulu) is a nut case. Cinnamon only tired to kill her twice, and considering she slept in the bed with us, that wasn?t too bad. I've had my third round of butt shots (ok technically ?lumbar epidural injections"). I'll see another neurosurgeon to decide if surgery is really the right approach. Yesterday I said to John "I want to talk to my mother." He said "it leaves a hole like nothing else, doesn't it?" and I knew he knows the weird feeling of loss - not of her (in his case his father Frank) as she was at the end. But as they really were for the rest of our lives. Edith can now see better than I've ever known anyone at 89 to see. John's golf is rare, with huge variations in score and thus satisfaction. He's out of town taking the Zebra for its annual. We'll have a three car garage when the river cottage is done - he must believe the new date of early May or he wouldn't be bringing back the M-5 to keep here. Appliances are delivered and not in, and the pool deck may be poured tomorrow. Progress is slow but steady.