Happy birthday to Lambie.  Today he is 11 years old.

Lambie was born prematurely in a filthy storm during the night and found, along with his twin sister in the field, having been abandoned by their mother, who wanted little to do with them. She had no milk and was not well either.

Things were not great to start with. Lambie’s sister promptly died and then his mother.  Lambie was bottle fed, which he did very badly and unenthusiastically.  Then he got joint ill and couldn’t walk.  I fashioned a small coat to keep him warm out of a sock (and, yes, I still have it!). There were numerous vet visits and injections.  He was very good about everything. A dear little chap.

Lambie had two mothers – our wee dog, BeAnne Duvet who he adored.

And me, who he tolerated.

To begin with, Lambie lived under the stairs in the kitchen and had regular bottles which he hated and drank very little from.

He was part of the family and my neighbour, who babysat him when I went to town for supplies, managed to house-train him, which was quite the achievement.  There was also the prescribed physiotherapy to get him walking as the joint ill took its toll and did much damage – he has awful arthritis.

Lambie obviously moved out of our house when we brought him ‘Bert to be his bestie and then ‘Ster and then others……

So, happy birthday to Lambie.  How he got to this great age, I will never know.  It has been uphill all the way.