Trauma Center

Mia sat totally still, barking her "danger" bark. Because we were in the living room, I was at a loss: was there a snake in the house (has happened in the past)? Was there an insect crawling across the carpet (frequent guests)? What on earth could the matter be? I shushed her, but she would not stop barking, nor would she move a muscle. It was obvious that whatever the matter was, I had to figure it out before Mia would stop barking.

As I walked toward her, all I could see was her little stuffed play toy on the rug. When it was obvious that I was missing something, Mia barked again and pushed at her toy with her nose. Ah-ha! I saw it: an arm had torn off her favorite toy and fluffy stuffing marked the scene of the injury.

Mia shadowed me as I found needle and thread, restuffed the ripped toy, and carefully sewed it shut. Mia never made a sound, but watched me with critical eyes, her nose mere inches from the operating theatre. When I finished, I handed her the toy, but she turned her eyes, perhaps afraid to face what could have been the demise of the doggie toy. I assured her that her toy was fine, then squeaked it a couple of times and threw it down the hallway. She chased it, picked it up in her teeth, tossed it in the air and watched it land, picked it up again, then trotted back and handed it to me so we could play.

Yet another household tragedy averted on this fine windy Friday.

PS: look closely at the photo and you'll see where the leg is missing :-) Mia's toenails are where the leg used to be, prior to what we're calling the incident.