Biting And Snapping

Today started strangely.
Jess trotted downstairs greeted me in her usual way, by shaking in front of me, launching slobber, snot, and eyeball bogies everywhere.
She then pissed all over her bed.
There is no stopping a Greyhound mid flow. I had to wait for her to finish before I could 'deal' with anything.
Then, as I started to lick the Lime Curd from my toast, Jess started to give her ‘unmentionables’ the same, vigorous, attention.
Put me right off.

On the drive back to Pompey from Wiltshire, I realised that I don’t like running over things that are already dead.
It makes me wince.
I know we haven’t killed it but it seems rude somehow.
There was a lot of wildlife mullered by the side of the road.
Foxes, Rabbits, Badgers, and 100’s of Pheasants all with massive crows having a munch.
Lairy things, that hardly bother moving their arses for passing traffic and always make me think of The Omen.
Scared the Bejaysus out of myself with that one when I was a kid. Same with The Exorcist, I turned every fucking light in the house on with that bastard.
Including the loft and the garage.

I used to be a terrible nail biter. I would bite them right down, almost to the quick. Most of the time they were red stumps.
A few years ago I stopped.
Last night, for some reason, I bit all my nails off.
Today I realised just how bloody handy they are and my fingers are sore.
I suppose it’s like being an alcoholic, once a nail biter, always a nail biter.

We took Jess for a trundle along the seafront when we got back and this picture was begging to be taken!