Well, somehow this morning while I was outside with that big palooka sister of mine, I tore one of my nails. WOW - was that painful and I was bleeding!!! Dad didn't see it right away but noticed me licking "spots" on the floor. When he saw it was blood, holy moly did he ever freak out. He was going nuts. If I wasn't in so much pain, I would have laughed my head off.
He was screaming into the phone trying to get mom, and then the vet. He took me to that nice place where the doggy hotel is and they fixed me up. I got a big bandage on my paw which I immediately started to chew off. THEN, dad put this cone shaped thing on my head. Well...I never!
I haven't eaten and I won't drink because I feel so lousy. The only good thing was watching dad "lose it" when I got hurt and, now, sending him on a guilt trip for keeping this cone thingie on me. He melts when I shoot him the big, soulful eyes and I refuse to eat or drink.
Wish mom was here. She's a trained medical professional. Dad is funny and means well, but I hear he's trained in the "dark arts" (something called "the law").
I'll be ok, but I sure feel lousy right now.