I forgot about the giant burn on my forearm (look, baking isn’t necessarily a contact sport but things happen) until I got in the shower and ran hot water over it. My hissing in-breath and following “Yowch!” made Odd Trundles concerned for my well-being, so he stopped trying to catch the drops from the other side of the glass shower door (it’s one of his favourite games, and it’s no wonder he has a flat nose from ramming it into things so frequently) and proceeded to try to climb the shower door, barking excitedly.
“I’LL SAVE YOU! *snortwhistle* MUM I’LL SAVE YOU!”
This of course brought Miss B from the other room, where she was enjoying a little well-deserved rest after going running with me (it is no longer so icy I fear for her paws) and, as usual, when she found a closed door in her way, she didn’t hesitate. I am still not sure how she managed to bust the door open–the door appears still functional and none the worse for wear, and I can’t see that she’s developed opposable thumbs yet–but I do know that said door managed to hit Trundles, who was staggering back from his attempt to scale the glass shower door.
The result of this was a predictable series of howling and yips, for Odd voiced his shock and Miss B, thinking he wanted to play, snapped at him, and they fell on each other in a cascading chain of mutually-assured destruction that was only halted when I burst from the shower, stark and dripping, and yelled at them both to “SETTLE DOWN I AM TRYING TO CLEAN MYSELF!”
They both stared, and I felt ridiculous, but then Odd wriggled up to me and began licking my ankles in an ecstasy of relief. “*snort* *licksnort* YOU’RE SAFE! *snortwhistle* *lick* *fartloudly* *licksnortwhistle* YOU’RE SAFE! OH MUM, YOU’RE ALL RIGHT. *licksnort* WHAT’S THAT SMELL?” And Miss B eyed me quizzically, perplexed by both my sudden appearance from the Magical Wet Cubicle and the sudden stench from Odd’s boiling, ever-active intestines.
Even toddlers were not this much trouble. Christ.
I finished my shower in (relative) peace, despite Odd trying to catch the raindrops from the other side of the door (again). “I should have named you Christopher Robin,” I muttered as I was toweling off. “Or Hoggle.”
And the damn dog was so excited at the prospect that he fell over and began snoring hugely.
I don’t even know.