Berlin cut her paw pad two days ago while playing outside. It was small and bled only slightly so I let it be, assuming it would heal on its own in a few days. I was trying not to be over-protective. I told myself that a lot of dogs live outside without mamas and cut their paws all the time. They survive, right?
She licked it and licked it and licked it and finally last night we took another look and it wasn’t getting any better. We decided to clean it out, which made it bleed again, and then bandaged it up. And that’s when I started freaking out and crying. Because we were scheduled to go away the next day, she was supposed to go to Camp Bow Wow, and what if she has an infection and they won’t take her? And maybe I can change my flight? And maybe the infection will grow gangrene and she’ll have to have her leg amputated!?! And maybe the gangrene will spread and she will DOT DOT DOT!
Took her to the vet this morning and she’s OK. No infection. They cleaned her, bandaged her, and sent her on her way into the loving arms of Camp Bow Wow’s employees who told me they would take very good care of her, and that she was probably OK to play with the other dogs. And when I left her she was wagging her tail and very happy to be there.
I know, it’s no big deal. The whole thing was no big deal. I don’t know when I turned into such a worry wort. OK, I do know when it happened. And that’s just it. I’m having such a hard time even just having her out of my sight. Because, God, if ANYTHING happens to that dog I will curl up and die. She has held me up and has been my greatest comfort. And I don’t want to lose anything else that I love.
These things in life are lessons, right? So next time she cuts her paw pad, I know exactly what to do. CALL AN AMBULANCE.
