Quite a lot of people that know me will know that I don’t like dogs. It’s an entirely rational dislike – some dog apparently put me in hospital while I was on holiday once. I was too young to remember that at all, but it makes it a rational dislike…
Ever since I’ve preferred to keep my distance from dogs, and whilst there’s a few of my friends’ pets’ I’ve got used to, by and large I still don’t like them. This includes dogs you encounter in the park who jump up at you while their owners bleat that ‘it won’t bite’. Well, to start off with, just because your dog ‘won’t bite’ (yeah, like you know it won’t…) doesn’t mean I suddenly want it jumping all over me. On one level I don’t expect people to understand, you can’t see my stitches and op wounds at dog-paw-jumping height; on another level that certain social failure dog owners fail to understand, I don’t want to have to put my jeans in the wash when I get home because you’re incapable of/can’t be arsed to control your mutt.
There is a point I’m getting to here. I’ve always been told dogs make a beeline for me because they can ‘smell my fear’ (uni lads – please read in Partridge-esque tone). Yesterdays papers suggest otherwise. Apparently dogs can smell if you’ve got bowel cancer! Now, I’m quite prepare to put my dislike of dogs to one side for a minute and say that that is one clever dog – either that or it’s a dog it’d be worth getting to pick your lottery numbers.
Anyway, it brings into question that ‘smell your fear’ lark. All this time I’ve been having a go at those damn dogs, when all they were trying to do is give me an early warning!!!
I don’t mean to scare you if you’ve noticed a dog spending rather too long sniffing your leg earlier on today by the way. There’s more chance of you having stood still too long and it having been a blind dog looking for a lamppost to piss against…
Moving on from dogs, it’s not long til the new Super League season – look out for my assessment of Warrington’s new centre/winger next week…
My chemo side effects continue to be as random as a Rowntree’s Randoms advert. There seems to be no pattern at all now, with the last few days of the latest two-week cycle being by far the worse of the last few cycles.
Today has seen cycle 4 start – into the second half of the initial programme, which is one landmark reached and passed. And whereas two weeks ago I just wanted to sleep on ‘day one’ and came home from hospital capable of doing nowt more than lazing on the sofa watching crap on the telly, today I’m feeling fine and up to knocking out this literary masterpiece.
You may have noticed that cricket, and, this midweek, football as well, have been noticeably absent from any comment in the blog. Space restraints. Sorry. Sure you understand.
Just one final thing. If anybody from the UCI is reading, regarding Alberto Contador. Drugs cheat = 2 year ban. Just sort it, OK?
Until next time…
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