I should have been furiously knocking on wood when I wrote that last entry.

There are precautions in place. We aren’t stupid. We all sleep with our doors locked – house and bedroom.

We can’t predict when someone is going to have a heart attack while taking their morning piss, and amble about with their bits hanging out of their zipper. Didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. I probably did both, which is a shame upon my manners and my bad ass training.

Sometimes it hits quick. One bite and thirty seconds later, we have a second problem. Other times it can take….well, a long time. Too long. Mr Peterson was particularly, ahem, virile. By the time I got there, we had four.

You might wonder why someone else didn’t jump in and take them down. It used to be that way. But too many people get accidentally killed or bit that way.

If you see it, you raise the alarm and we go into lockdown. Then it is Security’s problem.

People talk about quarantining those who are old, sickly or unfit. I can see why, but it is just not right.

Where do you draw the line between surviving and living?