Miss Kit has been having an unnecessarily heroic week. After the scrambling over the keyboard debacle (my main machine is still with the computeristas who maintain an ominous silence), we had a difficult moment last night after it became clear that the chicken with her painkiller on it had dried up uneaten. The stuff has to go down on a full stomach so it was a question of watching till she had scoffed up some griblets. Unfortunately the element of surveillance was perceived by Miss Kit: she jumped down and had it away on her toes. I siezed her and took her back to the counter, but by then she was set to hysterical resistance. I tried to fire some Metacam down her gagging and spluttering wee gullet, and as we struggled, she bit my left index finger to the bone. It didn’t half bleed. I was a bit concerned this morning that the wound might be infected, since it was a bit swollen, red and hot, but as the day progressed it seems to have settled down to be mere ordinary soreness. I don’t like the notion of antibiotics on the safe side because I’m not sure it IS the safe side.