Back in Cornwall now, after an absence of about six weeks. My first impulse was to head into town and see if the Tiny Tears doll is still wedged into the second indentation in the 'W' in the Woolworths sign, but instead I headed for my parents' to pick up the post.
Heading up the steep lane on the last bit of the journey, I could see the figure of m'mother in the distance, accompanied by her two dogs, Dog A: small and bouncy whippet, and Dog B: Mostly Deerhound, the list of whose crimes breaks roughly into the killings (which also involve eatings) and the the eatings (which for all I know involved a killing), and now have a semi-regular listing in the Guardian Weekend Guide. Sadly, he probably gets the Express.
Mother waved, and the two dogs detached themselves from her side. Dog A trotted prettily towards me, tail wagging in a friendly fashion, by which time Dog B (much much biggger) had crossed the distance between us and had my forearm clenched firmly between his jaws.
ME: ARGH JESUS CHRIST ARGH YOU MONSTROUS BASTARD
Finally he lets go, dances around a bit and goes back to my mother.
MOTHER: (sympathetically) Tch. Did you forget to fold your arms?
There was a massive storm last night all over Cornwall, and fallen trees litter the roads and pathways, although oddly no-one heard a thing (Police Baffled). I picked up a broken branch to carry back, because we live off the land down here, and Dog B immediately seized the end of it, growling fiercely and making it approximately ten times heaver. Apparently he 'thought it was a broom'.
Later on I sit at my parents' and nurse a cup of tea. Dog B creeps up to me and sadly lays his heavy head upon my knee, his large brown eyes gazing up into mine.
ME: Oh fuck you.
UPDATE: the post, by the way, included a small knitted Spider-Man finger puppet, sent to me from Chile. Thanks Paula.