You might think that a year named after the dog would be a great year for me. So far you would be wrong!  2018 is not bringing much joy. Reeling from losing a dear university friend in December, I staggered into January and fell afoul of the flu, which ebbed and flowed for weeks.

Then, just as I was rejoicing in renewed energy, I heard my oldest friend from junior school, who greeted me on my first day with the promise that we would be best friends, had died. I had been thinking of her often lately but had not seen her for years, since she had been lured off into a cult-like form of Christianity and was gradually isolated from everyone from her past. I had always hoped there would be a way to connect again. Alas, this is no longer possible.

Meanwhile down in London, Big Brother was rushed to the hospital with some kind of serious intestinal blockage. Then followed a week of tension while they figured out how to deal with this without operating, since he already has scaring from previous operations and radiation as well. He is slowly recuperating at home with nursing care and physio.

Back on the home front, Henry, the most beloved hound in the world, aka the Million dollar dog, was moaning and not himself. He ended up having a serious operation to remove a large tumor and his pancreas. Oy! By this time I have eaten my way into five pounds. Henry is doing quite well, however, though is not a good patient at all!

The glimmer of good things to come is that my new book, PEOPLE LIKE US, will be  coming out in the spring!  Cover reveal coming soon. Things may be looking up!