Yesterday was Guide Dog puppy class and being sensible I decided to take Vespa for a run before class to get rid of some of his energy. We went up to Abbotsford, where there's a fab field so he could run about to his heart's content, which he certainly did. And then, as it was time to get ready to go to class, I called him. He came hurtling towards me and, just as I bent down to tell him what a good boy he'd been, he jumped up at me and we smashed faces. I'm sure you can tell who came off worse in that encounter!
Vespa of course didn't feel a thing and he couldn't work out why I suddenly bent over with blood streaming through my fingers. I really thought he'd either broken a tooth or cracked my jaw or something, but no.... it turned out to that he'd just embedded his tooth in the bit just below my chin, while my tooth went into my gum on the other side.
I carry antiseptic wipes and tissues in my car, thank goodness, so managed to stem the flow. I also carry arnica, so took some of that. The wound wasn't huge, but it was surprisingly painful, but I soldiered on and went to puppy class.
Vespa wasn't badly behaved, but he wasn't all that good either and I was quite pleased when the end came and I could go home and check on my face. All was ok. I cleaned it again, this time with surgical spirit and carried on my day.
I woke up this morning to find myself with what I can only call something that looks like I've had a facial piercing that's gone horribly wrong and the inside of my mouth is also quite a picture - but I promise I won't show any pics as it's not pleasant viewing.
I managed to cover the damage with some concealer as I didn't really want the good public of The Scottish Borders to think their resident Clinical Psychologist had gone punk. Now I'm hoping I'm not marked for life.
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