Wacky Jacky

We have a bit of a menagerie up here: Jane has two ponies, Dave and Lachie; we have a Parsons Terrier (Doris), a Whippet (Daphne), a Black Labrador Retriever (Jilly) and a Chocolate-point Siamese cat (Jack). I could bore you endlessly with pages and pages about these creatures. I love them all to death and cannot bear to think about the day when I lose any of them.

This afternoon I was giving John a lesson and it was just ‘one of those days’. John was fine, but we just seemed to encounter incredible stupidity at every turn: Pedestrians would step out in front of us; a car overtook us at who knows what speed when we were in a 20mph zone and approaching a T-junction; people swapped lanes mid-roundabout; and, amazingly, two cars in front of us just stopped (in the middle of the road - no indicators) and the drivers got out for a chat! I don’t ‘do’ road-rage. If other drivers (and pedestrians want to be a complete tit, then that is up to them, I don’t let it bother me (although I do quietly make a wish that they are not able to reproduce). In fact, it is often useful to have all these prats do such stupid things, because I can use these incidents as a way of teaching pupils what NOT to do. Today, however, when those two drivers stopped for a chat, I had to fight so hard to refrain from bellowing obscenities at them (particularly as my window was already open).

You may detect, from my tone and language, that I am not in the best of moods. I really shouldn’t blog when I feel like this, but it is somewhat cathartic. It is my release.
The reason why I am not my usual happy-bunny self is, just before John’s lesson I got a text from Jane saying that someone had run down our cat. Some loathsome shit drove too fast through our village and killed our beautiful, perfect, perfect Jack. Naturally, they were too far down the evolutionary tree to think about stopping and letting us know. They left that task for our poor neighbours.
Jane was left with the task of burying ‘Wacky Jacky’ and I had to try and concentrate on the afternoons’ lessons without thinking about ripping the head off the next arsehole who sped past us, or who cut across lanes while trying to text someone.

I know. It was only a cat. We have the option of getting another one, unlike Maggie losing Robert last month. 99.99999% of the time (at least) I accept that people make mistakes, everyone does. But, this afternoon I am rigid with rage and about to combust with vitriol towards the ‘person’ who killed Jack. I want to rub their face in the blood and scream “LEARN TO FUCKING DRIVE!” at them. It was only Jack this time, but the next time you race through a village it could easily be someone’s child.

So (taking a deep breath now), I apologise for the language and making you face the brunt of my scorn. Jane and I will have a large Bowmore tonight and drink to Jack, then we’ll be fine tomorrow.

I just wish I was fine now.