Safe Return Doubtful

I left Shap just after 6 am on Sunday morning, preferring the early start to the school holiday traffic of the previous day, and had an uninterrupted journey to Cairnryan of just about 3 hours. Without any immigration procedure check-in is extremely quick, how it used to be at the Channel ports also, but that’s seems a distant past now. While waiting  on the quay and taking breakfast a wandering official comes to take the dog’s details; a simple online form, that lasts a lifetime, must be completed at least five days before travelling, and it’s only necessary for the outward journey. Entering the Republic is different, as that requires evidence of worming treatment stamped by a vet in both directions (a cost of around £100). 

Had the Open Championship not been in its final day at Portrush, I would have spent some time on the coast of Northern Ireland, but this Sunday afternoon, we travelled directly to Londonderry where I stocked up at Tescos on food and fuel. Fuel in Northern Ireland is the cheapest in the UK, at £1.29 when I filled up, and much cheaper than across the border (€1.75), which we soon crossed. 

I had researched a place on the small circular road that goes around the Croaghnamaddy mountain, on the peninsula to the north of Dunfanaghy, and though there was rain and cloud arriving during the night, it was a good stop off. I’m starting my Atlantic Way journey here, rather than the next headland to the east, at Malin Head, which has more visitors, and not many options to stay overnight.

Since the ferry journey I had had a bad stomach, which naturally I blamed on the crossing, though it was smooth. I wasn’t sick, but had little of the usual energy and no appetite at all. That paled into insignificance though, as Roja, whose arthritis had flared up during the day, damaged his left elbow further stepping down from the van. Immediately it was obvious he was in great pain. I just about managed through the night with an anti-inflammatory, which fortunately I carry, and crumbled paracetamol pushed into his lips. When dogs have pain they generally don’t eat or drink. 

The following morning I sort out a vet, initially in Milford, 30 minutes away, but they were on a large animal morning, and sent me to Letterkenny, another 20 minutes. There, they were very helpful, saw him quickly and in the van, in the bed, from which he didn’t want to move. The vet was hopeful that it is just a flare-up of arthritis, albeit a severe one, and prescribed him tramadol, as a painkiller, along with the anti-inflammatory that I already have. He did say that it possibly could be a hairline fracture in the elbow, so after four days, if no improvement, we may return for an X-ray. X-rays in older dogs aren’t commonly done though, as they involve sedation. 

In the afternoon I moved back to the coast, to Portnablagh beach, where there is a great place to park up on the lower pier. The weather is a typical Irish summer sea mist with drizzle and a breeze that really should be called a wind; fine for me, as it’s relatively quiet, with families swimming and fishing rather than spending time lounging on the beach. 

I’ve caught up on some reading, watched the Lions and met lots of people who want to comfort an invalid dog on three legs, and compliment me on the van. 

Roja is less than 18 hours into the pain relief, and it has had some effect today. I’m hoping by Thursday he may be able to put some weight on it. At the moment, despite my efforts in trying to keep him on the van floor, the second I turn my back, he hops, literally, onto the bed, but then cannot get down again. I lift him, with a dodgy back and one good and one wearing hip, and he manages to take a piss, ungracefully.