I blinked as I regained consciousness. I had hit my head hard, or had someone hit me? Then I realised I was holding a bloody knife in my hand.

And my face was wet, getting wetter by the minute. Rex, the old codger, was beside himself in a frenzy, licking away at my face to ensure I was okay. Sitting up a bit dizzily, I looked around. Wasn't this my kitchen?

Rex whined and snuggled upto me as I took stock. The blood! The knife! I glanced down at Rex, and realised that while I was trying to put my arms around him, they felt like leaden weights and refused to do my bidding. Then I saw it, the huge gash, pouring blood, in my side. "Rexy boy, get my phone" ..was that my voice? It sounded like a strangled cackle.

Later, they told me, I must have tripped over Rex while turning around preparing food. I must have fallen awkwardly and it was a miracle the knife made a deflecting cut only. And if it hadn't been for the old codger, I'd probably have had it.

Rex has gone now, faithful companion, but the scar hasn't.

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