So as I was saying previously, and as you will find my point is now proven, the ground was meant to be made of dirt! This new home of ours is covered in this shinny, slippery floors and they are very hard to move on at any rate other than slow and steady, like the tortoise that also resides here.
So I heard the sound of my lead coming off of its hook and I sprinted for the door. Forgetting that I am now middle aged and no longer a pup I went flying down the stairs and out the front door. When I hit the landing my paw got caught in the threshold while the rest of the Omar went flying out into the yard. I whimpered, which as some of you may know, is really rare. For the most part I will make little to no noise no matter the pain level. Even the vet was surprised when I was hit by that truck that I laid so quietly as he picked the gravel out of my belly. In this case though the paid was great and I felt as though I had left my entire paw behind. Being the tough guy that I am, and seeing the worry in Beth's face, I decided to “shake it off” as mom has told me before. I straightened myself out to look more dignified and ran to grab my ball. Always makes the humans assume I am feeling tip top. (I do this often when I hear one of them mention the Vet, just so they know I am not ill so there is no need to go.)
After about 3 days of faking it, my Beth started to see through my guise. My paw had started to swell up and looked a little alien. So she took me in, and to my dismay I had demolished one of my beautiful paws. My toe was literally in 5 pieces. And now I am clumping around in a gigantic club leg and Dr. Ard says no ball for a few weeks. They might as well kill me now. How is a dog like me supposed to live without my ball? We will see how long this lasts. I promise that I will never try to run in the house ever again; or at least not as long as I have a club for a leg.
"We cannot learn without pain." - Aristotle
