I've had my suspicions over the past three nights, but last night they were confirmed.
The airbed has a slow puncture.
Every now and then over the three days, we've 'topped it up' with the electric inflating thingy as it seemed a bit spongy. Each morning we seemed to hover mere millimetres above the floor and there was an uncharacteristic and unseemly rush to be first up so that the remaining sleeper hit the floor with a thunk.
Even Small Dog, who was quite keen on the airbed during the day, disdained to lie on it in the mornings until it was fully inflated.
So after three increasingly uncomfortable nights we've thrown in the towel, deflated what remained of the air in the (mis-named) airbed and are back to square one.
Thankfully, Small Dog does seem to have rallied somewhat today. She was particularly down and depressed yesterday and I feared her spirit was broken, which I'd hitherto believed to be indomitable. She was hardly eating or drinking and refusing to go outside. But worst of all were the sad, accusing looks she kept giving us, over the top of her bad leg.
She seems to have regained the will to live today though and has even eaten her dinner, in which we had cunningly concealed her medication. Granted, I had to hand-feed it to her, morsel by morsel, taking care not to wax too lyrical over the bits which had the pills secreted in them, but at least she has eaten.
In other news, I have belatedly realised that Christmas is looming ever closer. Aside from work-related festive preparations my personal preparations are still in the starting blocks.
I have done absolutely NOTHING.
No planning, no lists, no shopping.....
Perhaps I'll take a run at it this weekend........