Injured Reserve List

From Mia Cope

It’s been a couple of weeks since I wrote to tell you of the mystery surrounding Daddy’s disappearance to Dallas and the eventual revelation that he came back with a new hip. Don’t let the title of this post mislead you. Daddy is fine. His hip is fine. In fact, just a little over a week ago, he was able to take me out for a walk for the first time since his surgery.

Yet, I’m the one who is suffering and all notes of concern should be directed to me. Let’s keep that in mind. I’m the patient here.

At the end of last week, I ventured into the backyard in the dark hours of morning to do my business. And even though we have lights that I can turn on just by walking around, I couldn’t see very well. And I may have been doing some foolhardy running around in the dark when I stepped on something sharp.

Long story short, when I came back to the porch, Mom saw bloody tracks. And since she knew that there had been no recent murders or other acts of mayhem in the backyard, she checked my feet. Sure enough, the pad on my left forepaw was cut. Mommy, with Daddy’s assistance in calming me, cleaned the cut.

That afternoon, Dr. L and his staff worked me into his busy schedule. He examined my paw, trimmed a flap of the torn pad away, and loaded us up with ointment, antibiotics, and pain medications. I was relieved that the visit was smooth and pain free.

Until he looked squarely at Daddy and said, “No walks for Mia for about 10 days, at least.” We need to let that pad grow and fill back in.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. No walks for ten days?! Never before in my life had I heard of such a thing. Knowing that Daddy doesn’t always pay attention to things that are said to him, I held on to some hope.

No such luck. No such hope.

I’m writing now as a captive in a no-walk environment.

Daddy did go immediately to the big box pet store where I get my shampoo-and-do and brought home a “healing boot” for me to wear. Despite the measurements Momma had made, he brought home a Large that was too small. The next morning he went back and exchanged it for an Extra Large that was too big. In the meantime, Momma went to Dollar General and bought me 5 pair of little-girl socks to wear around the house.

I don’t really like socks. They get saggy and soggy since I pull on them and lick them a lot. But Momma has dutifully kept them on me as she has doctored my paw. And when I go outside, she wraps the sock in Saran Wrap to keep out dampness and to ensure freshness.

Every morning, I get up and hope that this is Day Eleven. But it’s not quite yet. So the sock stays on.

I have been doing my best to keep a positive attitude, but even that is wearing thin — sort of like my socks. To add insult to injury, Daddy suggested that I use the time I’m not walking to type my Note from Casa de Togo without his assistance. I protested, of course. But he would not relent until I slipped a sock on his left forepaw while he was sleeping and he finally realized how hard it was to type.

I am so sorry that I have had to leverage this writing platform to make a point. But I know you understand.

On a positive note, I was able to attend my brother, Jeremy’s, birthday party in my unwalked and weakened condition.

I trust I will have happier news to share from Casa de Togo next week. Let’s just hope that we can all keep our socks clean and dry until then.