The Shit

This is the latest installation to grace Piazza Della Signoria in Florence. Florentines, I have been reliably informed, call it 'the shit.'

I find it quite apt.

Music and Pictures

I do not tire of looking at pictures of my girl. In fact, most of the time I find it comforting. It is music I cannot stand. Certain songs I used to listen to when I was dressing her tumor or watching her amble across the terrace. They are unlistenable. Some folk would probably argue they were unlistenable even before then - especially my James Blunt collection.

There I made a joke, that's something I suppose.

About a week after she went to the artichokes,
I received a mail out of the blue from Alberto her old oncologist. He moved 300km up north back in July but he had been told of her artichoke relocation by her vet clinic. It was lovely to hear from him. He really was the best vet she ever had and the letter he wrote to me summed up why I felt this.

 I have pasted it below.

Hi Joanna,

I’m Alberto, I’ve just known about TP.. I’m really sorry, you’ve been her best friend for years, you loved her till the end.

I wanna thank you. I don't know exactly how to say it.. If I loved  being a veterinarian and if I'm terribly missing my job, it's because of persons like you and patients like TP.

Now I'm sad to know that she's gone, I feel like a part of me has gone away with her.

A big hug,

Alberto