Day of the dog

As I write this it is a quarter to ten at night and I am sitting in A&E having been bitten by a dog a couple of hours ago. Classic postman moment. I was stuffing letterboxes with Lib Dem leaflets and the bloody thing took a huge chunk out of my little finger. Bastard. People with animals like that should have boxes on the wall or keep their nasty little creatures chained up .

Ironically we had been enjoying the company of some friendly pooches on our afternoon walk and watching them cavort in the stream, which is when I took this shot. I never even saw the one that bit me.

We sent a photo of the bite to a friendly GP colleague, who consulted an A&E doctor friend of hers, who said it will need stitching. So no bunking off the A&E wait which will probably see me still here long after midnight. Fortunately I have the ever loving TSM with me although I have tried to persuade her to go home.

I will console myself with some (purely medicinal) vodka when I get home and reflect on the fact that this is my third injury to the fingers on my right hand this year, two of which have landed me in hospital. A fall, a car door and now a dog. You’ve got to hand it to me …