I knew I was off to a bad start yesterday when I had to finish putting my makeup on in the bathroom at work. Yeah, it was going to be one of those days. After I put my face on and headed to my desk, I noticed that my right foot hurt. Seriously? I had decided to wear my cute new peep toe shoes. Come on, it was supposed to be like 45 degrees which is practically 80 in Iowa after the hellishly cold winter we had. I was feeling me some Spring Fever people! I sat down and took my shoe off. YUP, sure enough, there is a small patch of skin missing from my heel. Bitch!
I got a Band-Aid from my kitty-corner cube mate and figured that should take care of it. Well, it worked for a few hours and I even resorted to taken off my new shoes to limit the damage. Frickin’ A….I bought the damn things because they had a lower heel and looked reasonably comfortable. WRONG! They decided they were not done eating my feet. When my shift ended and I was walking out of the building and noticed that my left big toe felt weird…like the wind was chilling it more than the big toe to the right. I looked down and wow, I had blood practically running down my toe. Son of a …………. Pretty sure I drove home with one shoe on.
This morning after my alarm went off….for the third time….I headed down the steps to hit the bathroom. Did my pee business and turned on the hall light. I have no idea what it is about being 5’2 but I tend to see things on the floor than most people. Obviously I pay more attention to certain things than my husband because what do you know, there was definitely stuff on the floor to notice this morning. Little rounded spots of bright red blood trailed across the hard wood floors in the hallway, living room and kitchen. WTF?
At that point I wasn’t sure if this was preferable to the morning I woke up to giant piles of dog vomit in the living room. I continued on my super sleuth path and followed the trail….right to a can of chicken breast that I had resorted to using last night for supper…..a can covered in blood. My frickin’ dog, that has a 5 ½ foot reach when he stands, pulled the opened and mostly empty can off the kitchen counter sometime last night and tried to eat the can. Literally eat it! There was paper littering the floor next to the blood pools and teeth marks in the tin can.
I turned him over on the couch (because what dog doesn't like to sleep on his back with all paws in the air?) and pried open his mouth. Sort of a nice way to say “Good morning” don’t ya think? I don’t see anything really. Checked his paws just in case, no cuts. Finished getting ready and went to work.
I got home tonight and let Diesel outside. For the poops and giggles off it I called him over to check his mouth. Bright red stains were on the white patch under his mouth and a little blood was pooling on his tongue still. Crap on toast! What the hell do you do when a dog has a cut on his tongue?? What any rational human being would do….call their spouse. No help there. So I went to plan B. I sat on my giant dog and pressed a wet tea bad on his tongue. You can about imagine how fun that was!