Me and the dogs decide to leave the house (BECAUSE THE REPAIR GUY IS HERE), and once the howling and screeching subsides I decide to take the screamers to the state park up the street. The contractor won't be there at the house for long, they can have a walk while I make a few phone calls and everything will be nice and calm.
We arrive and walk across the parking lot towards the beach and within 42 seconds we have a Crisis. The Crisis consists of a burr or nettle or just "prickly thing" which has got stuck in a paw. Not just any paw, a paw belonging to, and attached to, the dude whose's photo is right there in the dictionary next to the word "drama". The following is the conversation which ensued between him and I while trying to resolve the Crisis (I'll put his contributions in caps so you can follow along).
Watson, I know you have an owie. Mommy is going to fix it but you have to let me see your paw.
{AAIIIIIEEEEEEEEE}.
I know it hurts a little bit but just hold on and I will get it.
{AHHHHHHHGGGGGGG}.
No. We do not need a paw amputation. I will fix this.
{GRRR}. {OWWWWWWWW}.
At this point the nearby roofers, who just happen to be on top of the building right beside the park, begin to look down and awww in sympathy. "Poor dude, someone got a ouchy foot? Awwwww."
Yes. Someone has an ouchy foot but no, we aren't having an emergency paw amputation (just in case they speak basset and heard his last remark).
{GRRRRR. SNAP.}
I cheat death by a basset reaching for my wrist with intent to kill. Mommy is FIXING THIS DAMN IT i tell him but he's inconsolable and bitter.
{SNAP}.
I'm not sure which is worse at this point, a three-legged dog or me going through the rest of my life with just one hand.
{GRRRRR. AIEEEEEEEEEEEEE}.
I'm still juggling three leashes + three fools, trying to get his paw securely between my elbow and knee so I can pluck out the damn prickly thing which is by now stabbing ME with it's spikes and I still have the audience of sympathetic roofing guys.....
{GRRR. SNAP. I KILL YOU. AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE}.
....And I got the damn burr. It is over. The paw was saved, the dog still has four legs, the emergency vet is not required. Watson wags his tail, spies a piece of trash and runs off chasing it.....
community advocate | marketing consultant | dedicated to small business | fan of
classic cars & hot rods | beach lover | believer that "together we accomplish more"
