Owww!

I got a sticker in my paw! 

Stickers are bad news! Aspen goes outside then comes back in with them all over her pretty white fur, only she is a bad girl and won't sit still for Mummy to pick them out. She runs through the house, depositing them at random on the sofa, the bed, under the bed, on the stairs….

The law of averages states that at some point I am bound to step on one, and that point (pardon the pun) came this morning. It was horrific – I was ambling toward the sofa with visions of muffin tops dancing in my head when *STAB* - there was a sharp pain in my right front paw; I yelped then began running around in circles. Mummy said “What on earth are you dancing for?” [Really, Mummy! You mean to say you can’t tell the signs of excruciating pain when they stand, er, spin, glaringly before you?? You ought to be in some sort of home!] The point is (there I go again!), I was in pain, and she was totally oblivious. 

She picked me up thinking I was just wanting attention (not an altogether incorrect assumption but very misguided), then she spotted the offending prickle. Finally! Only I didn't like what happened next: she took me to the ‘surgery room’ – Dad’s bathroom doubles as an outpatient surgery center as needed, drawers stuffed to the gills with gauze, tape, smelly ointments, pills, and [gulp] TWEEZERS. She reached for those then sloooowly closed the door….

I am feeling much better now but this little incident has taken it out of me. 

Mummy had to give me some tuna to make me feel better then she put me on the bed so I could rest. I settled back in the fluffy comforter and hoped I would not dream of the flash of metal, the pinch and momentary sting, the tiny drop of blood left from the…Zzzzzzz.