I stood on the scales this morning as I’d planned. My
weight has held constant for the last two weeks. Oh well, as long as it’s not
creeping up again, I suppose.
I made toast and had my usual look at the Internet as
I do every morning. I hadn’t missed much overnight. Nothing appeared in my
Facebook feed apart from some utter nonsense about improving sleep quality by
going for three to four mile walks in the mornings (!)
I Munzed, then took the dogs for a walk.
We went to the woods. We were early this morning – at
half past seven there wasn’t any other cars in the car park. It was rather
misty; I hoped to see deer, but we didn’t. We had a quiet peaceful walk right
up to the last half-mile when I could hear a screaming. Bailey had a squirrel
in her mouth, and the other two were watching in much the same way that small
children in a playground crowd round a scrap shouting “Fight! Fight”.
The squirrel was screaming; I told Bailey to let it go which she did. I lifted the
squirrel onto a branch where it would be safe; the bloody thing sunk its teeth
into my finger. A classic example of the two hundred and eighty-fifth Rule of Acquisition.
“No good deed ever goes unpunished”.
The blood poured out and over a minute passed before
the squirrel finally let go. But rather than running up the tree it ran down to
the ground where Bailey was waiting. Bailey caught it again and shook it like
an old sock. This time Bailey gave it some serious stick and broke its back.
Seeing the poor squirrel had had it I stomped on its head to put it out of its
misery. And with the thing killed, Bailey lost all interest in it. Treacle then
carried the carcass looking very proud with herself.
I then stood and watched the blood gushing from my
finger with a sense of WTF do I do now? It had.(mostly) stopped bleeding
by the time I got to the car. We came home where “Daddies’ Little Angel TM” and Pogo
had arrived for a little visit. I washed my hand and the dogs, and the expert
opinion was that I should have my hand looked at. So I ran “Daddies’ Little
Angel TM” home, and as we drove so the most recent fruit of
my loins called up the hospital waiting times app. As luck would have it, the
shortest waiting time was at the Folkestone walk-in centre so once I’d dropped
her and Pogo off I went there.
“Squirrel bite” raised a couple of eyebrows; the
closest they’d had for some time was a tourist who’d had a nip off of a
seagull. But I was in and out in a couple of hours. The main cause of delay was
(so I was told) that squirrel bite isn’t something they see very often,
and although the consensus was that I needed a tetanus jab, expert opinion was
divided as to which antibiotics to prescribe. I spent a quiet couple of hours
reading “Harry Potter” on my Kindle whilst the experts deliberated.
I got the tetanus jab, three days of antibiotics, and a
nice bandage.
I came home where the dogs were all settled. Bailey
clearly had no idea of what I’d gone through this morning. I put some washing
in to scrub, made some toast for lunch took my antibiotic and watched some
episodes of “Four In A Bed” which featured some silly chap who made a big
show of telling everyone that he took great pride in being a disagreeable old
scrote. He then took offence when all the other contestants treated him like a
disagreeable old scrote.
I put a load of undercrackers in to scrub whilst “er
indoors TM” boiled up burgers. We
scoffed them then she went off bowling. I settled underneath a pile of dogs and
watched more “Harlots”.
My finger is a tad sore, but where I had the tetanus
injection is particularly tender.
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