Got involved in a car crash and my beloved VW Golf was written off. :tear:
No serious physical damage done except my right foot was trapped in the impact and I had to wrench it free to get out of the car.
The police duly arrived and breathalysed me. The officer would not accept my assurance that I was a teetotaller.
Not sure what they expected but the tone of the officer with his,Now come on Sir-You can blow harder than that, I felt did not bode well for future relations with them even though the thing didnt read anything.
When I arrived home She Who Must Be Obeyed(sorry Dear, didnt mean that) wanted to know the whole story and started ranting on about how would she now be able to visit her friends, which thoroughly annoyed me, as here was I mortally wounded by the loss of my beloved Golf and with a foot that was swelling up like a balloon and turning blue.:tear::
Normally in these sort of stressful situations I tend to take a kick at the dog to relieve the tension. Now some of you might think this is cruel, but you must understand that I feel thoroughly let down since I got this dog.
I purchased this dog as a guard dog to protect me against any intruders and he doesnt bark and just wags his tail when anybody comes to the door.
Having tried to get him to learn several attack commands in vain, I have now given up and regard him as a moving piece of furniture sent by the devil to constantly try and trip me up.
I suppose that is what you get for trying to provide a home for a down and out Daschund due to end up in an animal shelter.
The following day the foot was so big I couldnt get my shoe on and had to have the thing checked and bandaged at the hospital.
By the end of the day I was limping like Hugh Laurie
in Housecomplete with walking stick.
This caused my next door neighbour to start smirking like a cat that had just swallowed the cream. I dont think he was ever really convinced that I had CFS and no doubt now he is thinking, with the huge bandaged foot, that I have had gout all along and am secretly a heavy wine bibber or something.:innocent1:
The mere thought of the smirking neighbour annoyed me so much it caused me to take a swing at the dog with my good foot and fall over. Right, that does it, next time I hit him with the walking stick.
Thats if he ever comes out from behind the sofa.:Retro mad:
The following day I fall asleep in my comfortable chair and and start to get a warm feeling going through the sore foot and thinking, 'wow' its starting to heal.
Opening my eyes I find this warm feeling is due to the dog busy marking this new thing that has appeared in his environment, viz my bandaged foot, and then sneaking off behind the sofa.
I think he's done this so that he will aways know where I am and can trip me up even more.
The following day I go online and find that the wretched General Medical Council are attempting to take Dr Sarah Myhill down, which forces me to explode (with language that would make a sailor blush) at he top of my voice.
Something that I never normally do by the way. :innocent1:
The dog is so surprised by this outburst he comes from behind the sofa and licks my hand.
By now the bandaged foot is starting to itch and no matter what I do it never stops. You know the feeling, scissors, knitting needles, whatever fail to quell it.
I make it to the doctors office and show him the foot as its now getting bigger.
He just goes Ooh, that looks nasty, just go home and put your foot up. I have come all this way to his office and thats all he can say? Right, Im going home to take another swing at the dog with my stick.:Retro mad:
Finally, the weather improves and I decide to go and sit in the garden but theres a strange smell in the air. Smells a bit like sulphur fumes and it feels like there is some sort of strange dust in the atmosphere. What can it be?
I have to go indoors to get away from it and now Im getting annoyed again.
Just then the phone rings, its the Police. They want to come and speak to me about the car accident. They think its my fault.
As I said it's been a terrible week.
Now wheres my walking stick and wheres that dog hiding.
No serious physical damage done except my right foot was trapped in the impact and I had to wrench it free to get out of the car.
The police duly arrived and breathalysed me. The officer would not accept my assurance that I was a teetotaller.
Not sure what they expected but the tone of the officer with his,Now come on Sir-You can blow harder than that, I felt did not bode well for future relations with them even though the thing didnt read anything.
When I arrived home She Who Must Be Obeyed(sorry Dear, didnt mean that
) wanted to know the whole story and started ranting on about how would she now be able to visit her friends, which thoroughly annoyed me, as here was I mortally wounded by the loss of my beloved Golf and with a foot that was swelling up like a balloon and turning blue.:tear::Normally in these sort of stressful situations I tend to take a kick at the dog to relieve the tension. Now some of you might think this is cruel, but you must understand that I feel thoroughly let down since I got this dog.
I purchased this dog as a guard dog to protect me against any intruders and he doesnt bark and just wags his tail when anybody comes to the door.
Having tried to get him to learn several attack commands in vain, I have now given up and regard him as a moving piece of furniture sent by the devil to constantly try and trip me up.
I suppose that is what you get for trying to provide a home for a down and out Daschund due to end up in an animal shelter.
The following day the foot was so big I couldnt get my shoe on and had to have the thing checked and bandaged at the hospital.
By the end of the day I was limping like Hugh Laurie
in Housecomplete with walking stick.
This caused my next door neighbour to start smirking like a cat that had just swallowed the cream. I dont think he was ever really convinced that I had CFS and no doubt now he is thinking, with the huge bandaged foot, that I have had gout all along and am secretly a heavy wine bibber or something.:innocent1:
The mere thought of the smirking neighbour annoyed me so much it caused me to take a swing at the dog with my good foot and fall over. Right, that does it, next time I hit him with the walking stick.
Thats if he ever comes out from behind the sofa.:Retro mad:
The following day I fall asleep in my comfortable chair and and start to get a warm feeling going through the sore foot and thinking, 'wow' its starting to heal.
Opening my eyes I find this warm feeling is due to the dog busy marking this new thing that has appeared in his environment, viz my bandaged foot, and then sneaking off behind the sofa.
I think he's done this so that he will aways know where I am and can trip me up even more.
The following day I go online and find that the wretched General Medical Council are attempting to take Dr Sarah Myhill down, which forces me to explode (with language that would make a sailor blush) at he top of my voice.
Something that I never normally do by the way. :innocent1:
The dog is so surprised by this outburst he comes from behind the sofa and licks my hand.
By now the bandaged foot is starting to itch and no matter what I do it never stops. You know the feeling, scissors, knitting needles, whatever fail to quell it.
I make it to the doctors office and show him the foot as its now getting bigger.
He just goes Ooh, that looks nasty, just go home and put your foot up. I have come all this way to his office and thats all he can say? Right, Im going home to take another swing at the dog with my stick.:Retro mad:
Finally, the weather improves and I decide to go and sit in the garden but theres a strange smell in the air. Smells a bit like sulphur fumes and it feels like there is some sort of strange dust in the atmosphere. What can it be?
I have to go indoors to get away from it and now Im getting annoyed again.
Just then the phone rings, its the Police. They want to come and speak to me about the car accident. They think its my fault.
As I said it's been a terrible week.
Now wheres my walking stick and wheres that dog hiding.
