First thing that greeted me today was a single drop of blood on the kitchen floor.
Blood is always a worry… did I go on a killing spree in my sleep? Unlikely. Which means it will come from one of the fourlegged ones. Not the dogs – as they’d been snoozing in bed with me, and was already running about like loons in the garden.
Which leaves the cats. I charge upstairs (ok, a wee bit of a lie, more like hobbling as quick as I can) to check on the boy – he gives me a “fuck off” look. It’s not his “fuck off and leave me alone as I’m not feeling well” look, it’s his “fuck off, I hate your guts” look. No need to even check him, he’s clearly feeling just fine. So, that leaves Ms Monkey-pie. I go out the backgarden to call her – and the little madam comes flying off the neighbours shed roof – leaps over the fence and comes totting along without a worry in the world.
I’m now thinking it might be bird blood. Maybe monkey-pie caught a bird, and one of the dogs then dragged it into the garden. Realising all furlegged ones are fine I dig out cleaning stuff, as clearly some un-known blood is not what I want on my kitchen floor.
And as I get down on the floor I see seeds in the blood. It was raspberry jam. *feels like a proper dick* Other half must have had a slice of toast with jam at some point during the night.