I caught Frank this afternoon for his second application of antibiotic ointment, and was attacked. This is a good sign — he must be feeling pretty well if he's biting me. I finished looking him over and let him go, convinced he'd torn a piece of skin from my knuckle — albeit a small piece of skin — and would forever be a threat, having acquired a taste for human flesh. But when I let him go, there wasn't a sign of blood, and barely even any swelling. Despite the time spent with the camera and Photoshop, I can't make this picture show conclusive evidence of Frank's destruction. That white dot in the center of the circle might be a bit of skin torn free, but I'm not even sure I believe my story at this point.

Frank is back eating tasty seeds now.