Little Fish was a fish in water this morning, swimming merrily at hydrotherapy. One very happy Little Fish. She is not going to be anywhere near as happy from now on though. The childcare arrangements I had ready for next week have just fallen through, meaning that she's now going to be ferried to us in hospital first thing in the morning (about an hour before she'd usually wake up) and be ferried home later (for her) at night to try to settle without me before repeating the process every day for ten days in a row. Marvellous.
Mog also enjoyed her swim. Just as well, since it'll be the last one she has for a couple of months now. She's going to be a fish out of water for a very long time - not just no actual water, no swimming, no bathing, no showering for six weeks, but also no bouncing, no standing, no being jiggled and tickled and instead being held rigid and immobile. Not looking forwards to that.
This morning I had an exciting envelope in the post. Cardboard backed, I thought a friend had sent me some photos. Instead, it was three death certificates for Goldy. Thanks, world.