Ouch!

Well, I sure did it now. I was running around the backyard as usual, chasing the bushy tailed vermin. I wasn't looking where I was going and ran right into a piece of pipe that was sticking about 8 inches out of the ground. Apparently, it was once used to hold up a tree or something. Anyway, it caught me right in the chest, leaving a pretty nasty gash.

When I went back inside, I was trying to act nonchalant, but my mother saw my wound and called for my father. One look at the flap of skin hanging off my chest and he said, "that's going to need stitches. Wonderful. So they shoved me in "the box" and hauled me to the vet. They had to leave me in the car while they filled out all the paperwork because even in my semi-crippled state, I'd have still tried to eat all the other cute little furry things in there. When they finally came to get me, my father and some other guy carried me all the way to the back of the place, through several doors and down a couple of hallways and set me down.

It seemed like I was there forever, but I'm sure it wasn't really all that long. Finally, they came and took me out of the box and checked me out. Before I could say, "Hey, what are you doing", they had shaved my legs and stuck a needle in one of them. The worst part was that they did a really lousy job. They only shaved the bottom of each leg. I looked like an idiot. As I was wondering how I was going to explain this to the other dogs in the neighborhood, I started to get really sleepy. I just couldn't stay awake.

I woke up feeling kind of drunk. My head was spinning and everything seemed really loud. Something else felt a little strange, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. As I sat there scratching my head, it came to me. I wasn't scratching my head. I couldn't scratch it because there was a lampshade around my neck! Great. If the other dogs were going to laugh at my shaved legs, they were going to have a field day with this. The doctor came in after a few minutes to talk to me. I almost said something about how retarded my legs looked, but I figured I better just shut up. After all that had already happened to me, I couldn't imagine what they might do if they were offended. Anyway, the doctor explained to me that I had really done a number on myself. Not only had I ripped a 6-inch gash in my chest, but I had also peeled it back like a flap and even torn my pectoral muscle. He told me about how they had to stitch my muscle back together before stitching up the flap of skin. He also showed me where they had inserted a drain tube to prevent fluid buildup between the muscle and the "loose" skin. I tried not to smile, but I couldn't help being a little proud of myself. I don't do anything half-assed.

Eventually, I got to go home. It didn't really hurt, but I milked it for all it was worth. I got lots of attention from everybody. I'll be sure to keep you updated as I recover.