First, while we were out going pee, The Boy started limping, and when the thumb-havers managed to get a look at his right front paw, they sprung into action. Seems he'd managed to leave some of the skin dangling. The Typist went on a ride (without us) and came back with stuff to wrap around his paw. The whole time she was gone, The Alpha insisted that The Boy stay right in the spot where he'd put him down from bringing him inside. And, of course, being low in the pack order, The Boy stayed in a quite submissive pose, showing us all his belly. The good part there was that The Alpha could keep an eye on the offending paw, which, oddly enough, wasn't bleeding.
So they put goo and gauze and a bandage on his paw, but the real indignity came when they decided they didn't want him picking at it all night... and made him wear one of The Typist's socks:
The good news is, he can walk on it quite well. I'd be a limping wreck if they did that to me.
To add insult to injury (literally), a comment soon came from The Alpha: "With that sock on his arm, he looks kinda like Britney Spears."
Anyway, this morning's bandage change revealed that there had been some bleeding during the night, so he's still Socky M'Goose today.
As for me, well, when they got The Boy all wrapped up, they decided it wasn't fair to torture him all alone. I knew something was up, but I'm such a good girl that I couldn't run off and hide or anything. Turns out they bought a new instrument of torture for me -- one of those sticks they call a "toothbrush." This one had three brush heads and is supposed to get all sides of my molars at once. Doesn't work too well when I chomp down on it, though. Yet, The Alpha persisted, and I think my breath probably smells better.
5 comments:
Poor Boy!! My late sister Zorra used to cut her toe periodically when she was talking trash with our neighbor Oz on the other side of the fence. The thumb-havers looked and looked but could never figure out what she cut it on. She had to wear one of those ridiculous cones around her neck, and how she hated it. I hope The Boy's foot heals soon.
Did they get chicken-flavored toothpaste for you? I can tolerate the toothbrushing as long as I have that.
Amie
We have one of those sticks. I hate it! Just give me a bone, I say!!
Tell the boy that socks are in...in Sam, that is!!! Heeheehee...
No, really, tell the boy I hope he feels better very soon.
Turned out The Boy's other foot started doing the same thing. But he's not limping anymore, and everything looks dry, so no more sock-wearing. The thumb-havers still check on his front paws a bit, but Miss Cathy said one of her dogs used to have that happen, too, and nothing worse ever came of it, so I think they feel better about it now. (They are a bit overprotective sometimes, especially The Typist. But I know it's 'cause they love us so much.)
Oh, and Amie, I think our toothpaste is supposed to taste like beef.
(My pooch is a smart boy, but he doesn't blog. If he had an online following as well as his local fan club, he couldn't get his head through the door. Everyone loves my Patches.) This is Patches' mom from Prodigal Aspersions...What is up with the thumb havers and the pooches getting foot problems in your house? First the hopping while taking the picture, then this. You guys don't need socks. You need flip flops.
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