I have not posted an update on Sydney. I should have but even now I am finding myself confused as to what to say. He seems to be very tired and yesterday he didn’t want to eat until Shane sniffed his food. Today, though, he wolfed down his 2 o’clock meal. But now, I am not so sure that he isn’t hunching his back a little as he walks.

He’s 14.

He was the last person – furry and non-furry – to whom my father spoke  coherently before he died. He came out to see Mother when she was diagnosed with advanced cancer and she smiles and asked, “So, you came out to see me, Sydney?”

Quentin and I got him when he was six months old. That was a long time ago. I am beginning to think it was a lifetime ago.

My intuition tells me I’m being too downbeat.