in the wars

I think Bear suffers from a Napoleon Complex.
He has this deep seated need to overcome his shortness of stature by huringl verbal insults at any car, magpie, or passing dog-four-times-his-size

"Bark! Bark! Bark! Yeah, you and what army!"

one day he's going to pick the wrong dog .... or magpie ... or car, but yesterday afternoon it was 'large-nice-friendly-dog-that-lives-down-on-the-corner-with-Hans-and-Anna' who generally ignores the small, annoying barking-mad one.
Anyway, I wandered down to say hello and to try and shut you know who up ...

So there I was chatting to Hans, and Anna had moved on a few feet with 'LNFDTLDOTCWHAA', when I noticed a car approaching ... fast ... and clear indication from MrB that he was going to be on a collision course with its wheels [ the girls renting down the road haven't worked out yet that a narrow gravelled country "road" is not the Calder Park Speedway ]
so
as he started to accelerate, I bent down and grabbed the only bit of him still in reach, which happened to be his tail.
I can only think that I must've startled him because he shrieked as though all the devils of all the hells were attacking him ... I was still bent over trying to get a safer hold of him, and the next thing I knew a ballistic missile slammed into the side of my face.
LNFDTLDOTCWHAA obviously thought that I was harming the small annoying dog, and he'd bolted away from Anna and leaped to the rescue.

Net result:

I now have a miniscule nick in the fold at the corner of my eye, a bump on the cheekbone the size of half a golfball and a not-quite-black-more-like-purple-or-maybe-aubergine eye.

it's okay so long as I don't touch it, but I have to tell you that it's more than a bit disconcerting to be able to see your own cheekbone without having to look in a mirror

and no you don't need to see a photo