Bloody Dog...

Well, I finished my shift at 9am, having slogged my guts out (Mondays are always the hardest day of the week) and I was very looking forward to a nice sit down and a rest before I began slogging my guts out at home and then hightailed it down to the Sense shop. I should have had about an hour and a half that wasn't earmarked for anything, so just for me. Nice nice..

I looked forward to that sit down all the way home. Right up until I opened the front door and was confronted with a stressed out Mother and a stinking dog. He'd "rolled" in "something" and had been relegated to the garden in disgrace until I got home. She had been too nervous to try and wash him herself in case he struggled and she accidentally hurt him. Or herself, obviously, but more him.

Great. Wonderful. Absolutely bloody spiffing.

So instead of a sit down and a hot drink and a nice vegetate in front of the television - Frost was on - I found myself washing a very dejected dog. Thankfully he didn't put up too much of a fuss; outnumbered as he was two against one, and it was over with quite quickly, but we all of us got drenched in the process and I managed to get ketchup all over my work boots*. Again: spiffing.

So NOW I am sat down and the dog, having finally been allowed back into the house, is snoring contentedly on his bed, but I don't feel at all relaxed. I feel quite pissed off, actually. More so than I should, probably (we'll blame the hormones. It's that special time again. Whee.), but there you are; that's just how it is.

I'm going to have that hot drink now. Maybe that will soothe me.

Tara.

Alice.
        x

PS: ooh, before I forget; the baby squirrel is doing well. He/she (they have no clue) is getting stronger by the day and has been named "Destiny". Nice name, given by nice people - crazy, but nice - who care a great deal and are doing their best in a difficult situation. Fingers crossed. Although God knows what they're going to do when (I can't bring myself to think 'if', although I know it's more likely than 'when') Destiny grows up: it's difficult even for experts to raise a wild animal from a little after birth to adulthood without it becoming domesticated and unable to be re-released again, let alone a couple of well meaning novices armed with little more than grim determination and two library books.


* an old wives tale that actually works. Not many things can get rid of the smell of fox muck - even lemon, the all purpose smell-get-ridder-ofer, doesn't work all that well - but ketchup can. Sounds mad, but truly, it's great. It takes two washes, though. Because no matter how hard you try, you never get rid of all of the ketchup first time round; there's always a residue left behind.