Chill-Factor

I must be abso-friggin’-lutely barmy.

That was my thought process at 7am this morning, walking Hound round the local park. She’d been a pain in the arse all night, primarily because Herself was out last night, so Hound didn’t get to see her. We also had Herself’s boss staying the night, which meant Hound was supposed to be on best behaviour.

Of course, that was never going to happen. She sodded about all day, and was her general pain-in-the-arse self. Mind you, so was Psycho Cat. He took every opportunity possible to wind up Hound, waggling his furry tangled backside in her face as he went out the door, and we had the full Mexican Standoff between them on the stairs, Cat glaring at Hound at the base of the stairs, and Hound hovering halfway down, not wanting to back off, but too scared to go down and run the gauntlet of Cat teeth and claws.

So this morning, rather than adding to the stress levels of all involved, I took Hound out before Herself’s Boss got up. And stayed out ’til she’d left for work. 50 minutes. In temperatures hovering around 0°C. Oh joy, oh lucky me.

Yes, I must be abso-stuffin’-lutely cracked. There’s no other explanation for it…