A bloody mess
Took The Boyz -- my dogs -- along for my run today. We don't run together often anymore. Gone are the days of them joining me for 500 miles a year. Nowadays they come with me only occasionally; mostly during the winter months when it's cooler for them; typically when I figure we won't encounter the kinds of distractions that cause them to absolutely lose their minds.
Today was a near perfect run for us. Despite two inches of fresh snow, it was my easiest, most comfortable run in months. Ah, the joys of eight-paw drive.
We had the trail to ourselves. The usual distractions -- other dogs, squirrels, deer -- were nowhere to be found. Accordingly, the boys were well behaved.
They ran effortlessly, it seemed. They set a decent pace. They ran ahead of me, keeping a slightly-less-than-taut tension on their leashes. When I hit some slippery patches and briefly lost my balance, the strength I found in their leashes allowed me to quickly correct myself without falling.
I wish I could have been as helpful for Champ. He took a nasty spill not long after we passed the three-mile mark. To his surprise, there was glare ice under the fresh snow as we rounded a curve. All four of his legs flew out from under him at once. He careened across the ice for several feet.
He rebounded nicely, however, and finished the run without further issues. He seemed well enough, but I was concerned for him nonetheless upon our return home. My concern grew exponentially when I discovered several spots of fresh blood on my dining room floor.
I immediately called him to me. I checked him for injury. He didn't outwardly act hurt. And my inspection revealed no source of the blood on the floor. So I checked Buster, my second suspect.
Sure enough, he was bleeding. There was blood on the bottom of one of his back paws. Somehow he managed to break a nail during our run. I hadn't noticed anything unusual about him during the run. I didn't notice anything different about him when we got home, either. Except he was bleeding.
I'm not sure he was aware of it. He didn't even tend to his broken nail after I had stopped the bleeding.
His broken nail looked painful enough to me. It looked like I could see a sort of pulp inside it. But it didn't take long before he was running around the house, toy in tow, looking to play. Like nothing had happened. Tough guy.
Wish I had that kind of resilience. I was still queasy from the mere sight of his blood.
Today was a near perfect run for us. Despite two inches of fresh snow, it was my easiest, most comfortable run in months. Ah, the joys of eight-paw drive.
We had the trail to ourselves. The usual distractions -- other dogs, squirrels, deer -- were nowhere to be found. Accordingly, the boys were well behaved.
They ran effortlessly, it seemed. They set a decent pace. They ran ahead of me, keeping a slightly-less-than-taut tension on their leashes. When I hit some slippery patches and briefly lost my balance, the strength I found in their leashes allowed me to quickly correct myself without falling.
I wish I could have been as helpful for Champ. He took a nasty spill not long after we passed the three-mile mark. To his surprise, there was glare ice under the fresh snow as we rounded a curve. All four of his legs flew out from under him at once. He careened across the ice for several feet.
He rebounded nicely, however, and finished the run without further issues. He seemed well enough, but I was concerned for him nonetheless upon our return home. My concern grew exponentially when I discovered several spots of fresh blood on my dining room floor.
I immediately called him to me. I checked him for injury. He didn't outwardly act hurt. And my inspection revealed no source of the blood on the floor. So I checked Buster, my second suspect.
Sure enough, he was bleeding. There was blood on the bottom of one of his back paws. Somehow he managed to break a nail during our run. I hadn't noticed anything unusual about him during the run. I didn't notice anything different about him when we got home, either. Except he was bleeding.
I'm not sure he was aware of it. He didn't even tend to his broken nail after I had stopped the bleeding.
His broken nail looked painful enough to me. It looked like I could see a sort of pulp inside it. But it didn't take long before he was running around the house, toy in tow, looking to play. Like nothing had happened. Tough guy.
Wish I had that kind of resilience. I was still queasy from the mere sight of his blood.
posted by RTG at 7:53 PM
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