It's cold and wet outside - of course, the sun just came out when I wrote that. Naturally. What is that, Murphy's Law? Sods law? Not quite, but almost. Close enough.
It is time to curl up on the couch with Tim Winton's Eyrie and read for the day, for a few hours, at least. I'm not making too much sense of it yet, but I have really just started it.
Bruno and I are cuddled up on the couch together, under the big, pink blanket. I adjust the pillow under my left shoulder just so, and relax into the comfort I am feeling. Bruno wiggles his arse around until he is perfectly lined up to keep my left thigh warm.
But then, Sam comes in and sees Bruno as an easy target to clean his ears, just as we are settled in, and Sam grabs Bruno and squirts liquid into his ears. Both dogs hate having their ears cleaned, but bulldogs are prone to ear infections so it has to be done. Bruno resists and shakes his head and I am covered in dog ear cleaner. It's on my lips like sour detergent, or liquid ear wax, or cum. "Oh yuk!" I exclaim.
Then Otto comes running in as he must have been cornered in the other room and has had his ears swilled out too and he particularly hates it. And Bruno gets up and jumps off the couch taking the big pink blanket with him half way across the lounge room and both dogs run around the room looking for an escape passage. And I am left on my own, now kind of cold, exposed, with incredibly sour lips wondering what to do, trying to wipe the noxious liquid from my lips with the back of my hand.
No comments:
Post a Comment