A Really Bad Day

I shouldn't have gotten up this morning.

My horrible day started innocently enough when I was running around like a lunatic in the backyard after having returned from my walk with Pa.  During one of my laps, I suddenly noticed a severe pain in my paw.  Realizing I was hurt, I quickly assumed my "The Dog is Hurt" position of sitting right outside the side door looking pitiful.  Pa, noticing my mournful look, came over immediately and, after washing the mud off my feet using the outside hose, checked each of my paws.  He discovered that my right front paw's dewclaw had hooked on something while I was running which caused its outside shell to come off leaving behind the pink quick intact.

Notice How Sad I Look

Pa brought me inside and Ma called the vet to make an appointment to have my paw looked at.  Nursing my injured foot, I slunk off to be by myself.  It just so happens that that place I slunk off to was atop Ma and Pa's bed.  Ma found me on the bed a few minutes later, but by that time I had prepared my saddest look and positioned myself snugly between a couple of pillows.  Apparently, my sad expression got to Ma and she decided that she simply didn't have the heart to kick me off the bed.  If I wasn't in so much pain, I would have celebrated Ma's decision, but alas, my foot really hurt and I was in no mood.

Now, this isn't the first time I've either torn off or broken a nail.  In fact, I've had problems with at least two nails before today, and let me tell you, the experience never gets better.  The first time, the nail and the quick both came off leaving Sister with a bloody mess that could rival most slash 'em up movies.   The second time I cracked my nail while playing by the fence with the next door neighbor's dog.  That time there was no blood, but the nail had to be removed (this time by the vet) anyway.

Eventually, Pa went off to work and Ma woke Sister up to help her take me to the vet.  I was a little concerned that Sister would be annoyed that she had been woken up early on her day off, but instead she showered me with attention and commented on what a poor boy I was.  She also sat with me on the bed and rubbed my ears for a little while which I found comforting.  After a little while, Ma and Sister put my leash on and escorted me to the car (despite the pain I was quite excited--I do love car rides).

When we got to the vet's office I took my place in the waiting room sitting on the couch between Ma and Sister.  The receptionists oohed and ahhed over me (apparently, even in pain I'm exceptionally handsome) and eventually the vet called me into the exam room.  The vet checked my heart, my joints, my ears, and eventually my bad paw all the while saying extremely nice things about me.  Then she announced her diagnosis:  the quick had to be removed and in order to do so I would have to stay a couple of hours and be sedated.  I didn't like the sound of that, but because I'm always up for an adventure, I happily went off with vet into the back room.

The next thing I knew I woke up in a strange room filled with barking dogs and had a large ace bandage on my paw.  When I was a little less groggy, Ma and Sister came back for me and I greeted them by trying to jump into their arms.  Then I started pulling toward the door with all my might (and the vet said that I would be a little dopey from the sedatives--ha!).  I was so intent on leaving the office that I didn't even beg for one of the dog cookies the receptionists keep on their desk.  Eventually, Ma, Sister, and I piled into Ma's car and we drove home.

My Injured Leg

I spent a fair portion of the rest of the day trying to nap, but I never got much sleep because I couldn't get comfortable.  The bandage (which Ma said she might remove tomorrow morning because she thinks that I'll try to eat it while everyone is at work--I can't say it wouldn't happen) was always in my way.  Every time I tried flipping over, my bandaged leg clunked awkwardly on the floor (or whacked me on the head).  It was quite annoying.

Oh woe is me!