Sick As A Dog

. . . as opposed to the proverbial parrot!  No, this was the real thing, felt very poorly last night - today I feel weak and drained but not nauseous, I'm pleased to say.  Not, I think, the norro virus or winter vomiting virus, so called, that's going around - though there certainly is a lot of it about;  I'm pretty sure I know what caused this particular bout, something I shouldn't have eaten, particularly after the sell-by date marked on the container.

So, a day without eating today, to settle things down.  Any brush with ill-health, however brief, reminds us just how little control we really have over our own mortal bodies.  After all, my body is, pretty much, a coalition of related cells and interlopers (friendly and essential bacteria and the like), that most of the time work pretty well together without much in the way of instruction from above.  When things go awry, which usually means something is in there doing its own thing and not working for the good of the whole enterprise, its frustrating that I consciously have so little control over the process of putting things right.

Of course, even the troublesome and unpleasant process of being sick is in reality part of the putting right of things.  It's a simple and straightforward way of getting rid of as much as possible, as quickly as possible, of the troublesome elements.  That's why dogs do it;  as natural scavengers, they eat first and ask questions afterwards.  If what they've eaten isn't working out for them, they barf it up pretty quickly (in my experience, all over the lounge carpet).  Very sensible.  "Dogs return to their vomit" though, as the Good Book reminds us.  That's not behaviour I'd want to copy - flush it away as quickly as possible, is my method!

Anyway, I shall take today gently . . .