Bad Dog!

 

After my friend Connie's pup Willie disappeared last week and was later happily reunited with his parents 30 miles from his home in another state, we talked about how easy it is to get mad at them. 

Then, Connie said something that we all know as parents of kids and pups:  it's our job to keep them safe. 

Occasionally, however, I do believe that pups do stuff to deserve the "Bad Dog," temporary label from their parents. 

Take this morning, for example, a rather beautiful but brisk morning where walking Bridie around the hay field and through the woods where rays of sunshine casting beautiful light and true joy of a spring day.

Bridie was thoroughly enjoying herself, sniffing here and there and everywhere, and so was I as I enjoyed watching her and watching the morning unfold more with each step over a cushion of pine needles and over patches of standing but slightly frozen water. 

It was a beautiful experience, and I was feeling so happy about our walk when I took Bridie to the house, opened the door to the kitchen and uttered the usual, "Go find Bill."  Bridie always races to where Bill happens to be as I head back out to get the paper. 

And, so it was this morning.  Once again, no paper, which gave me even more time to amble leisurely back to the house, admiring shadows formed from the morning sun. 

Oh, what a feeling, I thought as I opened the door to the kitchen.

Here's where the age-old riddle jumps into the story. 

What's black and white and blood all over?

You got it!  Not the newpaper, which did not come, but a black and white and a little brown Border Collie pup which in my absence had spread blood all over the house----the linoleum, the carpet, everywhere. 

Bill had already started cleaning up the blood.  

"What happened?" I yelled. 

"Bridie went on one of her rampages [and let's remember Border Collies run fast during rampages] and did something to her foot," he said. 

Bliss, ha!  That was so two minutes ago!

A little bit of puppy mom rage, yes!

No real answers to what caused her to catch one of her rear toenails on something in the house but for sure, she had done an impressive job cuz the blood just kept coming from that foot. 

Was I prepared to play my doctor role on this lovely spring morning?

Hell no!  

I went into immediate "Where is it?" mode, thinking about the bandage and the antibiotic and the scissors.

  It took some doing and a whole lot more blood on the floors before I rounded up all the materials to fix this latest injury to the pup who ripped the skin off her hind leg that day in February when we no longer needed to keep an Elisabethan collar on her for her spaying incision. 

She wore the collar for two more weeks with the leg injury, and I went through a whole bunch of vet wrap, antibiotic and gauze during those daily nursing sessions on the couch.  

Since then, I had put all the stuff away in different spots, including the Elisabethan collar. 

Now, let's add the part where, as I'm furiously moving around the house to find medical supplies, Bridie squats right in the kitchen by the island in the latest deposits of blood and deposited some hot steaming plops on top of the blood splotches. 

BAD DOG!  BAD DOG!  

f ya can't hear me now, I'll yell a little louder. BAD DOG!

Then, comes the fun part.  

Bill was getting pretty sick of spraying resolve and cleaning up blood all over the house, so he shut Bridie in the laundry room. 

And, that had to serve as my triage center for a wiggly pup bleeding and a lot farther down to reach than the usual repair area on the couch.  

Ever tried dressing wounds on a wiggly pup on the floor when you're old and bent over, standing almost on your head. 

Well, I have, and I don't recommend it.  

Miraculously and laboriously, I managed to stick some antibiotic on gauze, stuff it in the toenail area and wrap the back paw with vet wrap. 

Bridie is now lying in her crate with her bandage and once again wearing her Elisabethan collar.  

I'm hopeful that the messy job of treating the wound will be successful by stopping the bleeding. 

Yes, Connie, the parents who do everything humanly possible to keep our puppies safe occasionally have the right to yell "BAD DOG."  

This morning was one of those times.  

To be continued, I'm sure!

And, yes, I love that pup and Bill loves that pup way too much to be mad at her for very long. 

Happy Wednesday.  Hope all your mornings have been more blissful than mine, which really did get off to a lovely start but fizzled. 

Mama said there's be days like this, but she failed to tell how many.