My daughter, Molly, is just like "normal" kids. She loves to play games and sometimes lets the game get a little out of hand. Games get rough. Or shall I say games get ruff? My daughter is a nearly six year old toy poodle who has an unusually long attention span when it comes to playing fetch.
When we play, Molly talks to me. I don't have the attention span that she does where the game is concerned and she gets a little miffed with me for it. She stands at my feet and makes a noise that sounds like a seal making it's noises through it's nose. So, instead of ar-ar-ar, she says aerr-aerr-aerr. If I'm not playing as actively as she'd like me to, her vocabulary expands to full blown barks as she dances in front of the ball at my feet, looking from my eyes to the ball and back again.
After I throw the ball, she does a quick about-face and tears down the hall after it at a full run. Occasionally, even though we've got carpet all the way, she can't quite stop herself in time and she runs into the wall at the end of our hallway. She'll let out what amounts to a curse and zip off to find the ball so she can head back for some more game. Little bumps and bruises are alright with me, as long as they're all right with her. However, when it gets worse, the game must stop.
Last night, we played a game with our small ball (only two inches in diameter!). I got home, she danced and pleaded that I play with her, so I gave in and threw the ball. I threw the ball for half an hour or so before I decided I just wasn't interested any longer and told her, "No more." She wasn't satisfied with such a short game time, so she went to beg a game from my Grams. Grams gave in as well and this time Ren, her fur-son, decided a romp after a ball was a good idea, too.
From there, Grams and I aren't sure what happened exactly. She threw the ball a few times, then Molly acted like she wasn't interested any longer. I figured Ren had the ball and was just teasing her with it, while she pretended to not want to play any more. After a few minutes went by, I went over to make sure she was alright. If she's not playing while the ball is being thrown, there's something very wrong.
When I went to pick her up, she was favoring one of her paws. Upon further investigation, I realized that she had pulled a toenail almost completely off! It was just barely hanging on and her raw toe was bleeding everywhere. I don't normally have a strong stomache for that kind of thing and couldn't bring myself to pull it the rest of the way off and inflict that kind of pain on Molly. Swooping her up into my arms, I went to get Grams so we could make a trip to town and see Dr. Ann.
We zipped down to the Vets' office and they put her under anathesia so she wouldn't feel it when the toenail was ripped the rest of the way off. Dr. Ann carefully applied antibiotic ointments and wrapped it up in purple bandages, then gave Molly another shot to wake her up. That happens pretty quick, but Molly was so disoriented that she started flopping around on the table, making full body circles, until I hugged her to me and told her it was going to be alright. We waited about a half hour for her to come fully back to her normal self after being under the anethesia, then made the trip home with new antibiotics and instructions to get some baby aspirin and keep that paw bandaged for at least the next five days.
Immediately upon returning home and going into the house, can you guess what the first thing she did was?
She retrieved our small ball and began dancing at my feet while pleading, "aerr-aerr-aerr," for a game.
No comments:
Post a Comment