Wednesday, 23 March 2016

Post-tato depression

Louis and I are adopting Grayson, an Italian Greyhound and the imminent adoption day has made me feel quite overwhelmed. 

What if I trip over him? What if Sager and Wilde still refuse to let him eat in the restaurant with us? What if he thinks I'm a bad mother?

I was walking along the road yesterday and I thought "if I just walk into this traffic he won't have to be looked after by me." And when I woke up this morning I thought, "if I just snap ALL our thin legs then we can all just stay at home healing together and I don't have to organise a dog walker.."

Luckily Louis soothed me and reminded me that peri natal depression can be quite common in new mothers and now I feel much better.

I was eating leftover scandi potato, dill and cod pie for lunch at work today when I thought "what's Grayson's little leg doing in my mouth?" I felt it out with my tongue. Yes. Long. Thin. Quite hard. I didn't snap it off in my sleep did I? I fished it out. Oh a massive fish bone!  Phew.

It made me remember that looking after him is going to be just as delicious as the meal I was eating leftovers from. 

We had it with mushrooms baked in cream and parmesan, leeks the same, and kale not cooked but wilted with white wine vinegar, dijon mustard and olive oil dressing. 

 


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