Fluffy Dog and Driving To Melbourne.

Just like the last cat, the little fluffy dog had aged since we cared for her several years ago.  Her owner explained that she injured her back in a fit of silliness last Christmas, and spent 8 weeks unable to walk. "I thought I would end up with a wheelie-dog, but she came good."  

Little Fluffy dog had a daily Physiotherapy regime and was strictly forbidden to play fetch due to her habit of sudden turns and injury-inducing slides on the wooden floor of the long hallway.

We went for twice daily sedate walks instead,

Chickens!

and she spent lots of time supervising me while I worked.  

On the assumption of summer I had brought minimal jumpers with me to Melbourne, and took even less with me to visit my Beautiful Daughter (BD) in her new share house in Kew. Rain slapped against the tram windows on the way to Kew, and the Melbourne air had a cruelly un-summery chill. On the return journey I regretted my lack of wardrobe planning, waiting for a tram while rain splattered around me and soaked through my decidedly less waterproof than advertised jacket.

From the tram. 

Back in Adelaide Roger tidied up the house, brushed the cat for the last time, and started a slow-motion trip to nurse his back across to Melbourne, stopping for walks and exploring the little towns along the way.

He spent the first night in Bordertown, where white kangaroos lounged in the local wildlife park,

and the motel, dowdy and in poor repair, was empty apart from him and two travelling cars who arrived late and left early.

Little towns followed in quick succession across western Victoria:

Kaniva had colourful sheep and unexpected wetlands.

Nhill's public buildings hailed from a long gone era,

and the local Rural Fire Service had posted a haystack heat scale for the elucidation of local farmers.

Dimboola's car yard boasted sales of cars which had long ceased to be manufactured,

and some things for which there was no sensible explanation.

Stawell was, as always, tidy with immaculate buildings beautifully presented. Not that Roger was particularly interested in the buildings, notcwhen there was Australia's Best Vanilla Slice to try.

Just outside of Ararat he visited his uncle's grave,

Peaceful.

and took in the views of the Grampians from the hilltop lookout just outside of town.

Also peaceful.

The small Fluffy dog, napping beside me in the office, didn't realise Roger had arrived until he walked in the door, thereby failing her guard dog credentials completely. She gave a few cursory barks and ceased protecting me the moment he uttered the magic "walk" word.

"The beds in the motels were so soft," said Roger. "I slept on the couch in Ararat. In Bordertown I had to put the couch cushions on the bed to firm it up." He lay gingerly on the bed while the small fluffy dog supervised him. "Oh this is good. This is perfect."

Home til January.

Not that he could stay there for long: I gave him a grocery list and went back to work. We had a dinner date to help BD demolish a particularly delicious cheesecake. You can't be late for cheesecake.

The road between Adelaide and Melbourne is fraught with dangers.