When Good Buddy's Turn Bad

Last night I was washing up, and I had piled the cutlery in the water, including a particularly sharp knife, and I managed to give my finger a good ol' under-water slice with said knife. It was all a bit bloody, but I did get out of finishing the washing up, so it wasn't all bad. Accentuate the positive, and all that.

But a concerning incident took place later on in the evening, when I was lazing on the lounge in front of Big Brother (yes, I still watch it) with E and Buddy. Buddy kind of had a bit of a lick of my band-aided finger, and (sorry this is a bit gross) some of the blood had kind of soaked through a bit. He then started feverishly trying to lick and nibble my finger, after getting a bit of a taste. Yowza. He was doing that weird sniffy crazed thing that vampires do. You know the one. There was a different look in my Buddy's eyes. The distant howl of his ancestors was calling him on the faint October breeze. He was somehow.. altered.

Now I can't blame the guy, I have no doubt that I taste pretty good, but it did get me a bit worried. I remember reading  this Jungle Doctor story when I was a wee bairn, about a little boy who found a leopard cub and brought it home to the village to be his pet. His Dad warned him of the danger, but the kid wouldn't have a bar of it. The motto of the story was 'little leopards become big leopards, and big leopards KILL'. The boy learned his lesson the hard way.

 Buddy has always been a lovable little fella who wouldn't bite you if you stuck your hand down his mouth.  But what if now that he's tasted a few drops of the good stuff he has developed some sort of insatiable thirst? What if he's just biding his time? I feel a bit like Bella Swan. What if he's just waiting for me to trip over a bonsai and sprain my ankle when the rest of the family are out, so he can make his move?  Time will tell..