Just Back from the Vet Hospital

I've had a suspicion my dog and I are connected to each other beyond love and friendship - we feel each others' pain. At least that's what it seems like lately. I went to the hospital and got stitches. He went to the hospital, got a staple in his head. I have a bum right shoulder, now he has a bum right shoulder.

People wanted a picture of my hand with my stitches - well here it is.

Here is the staple in Snowy's head.

As the vet would describe it, "The little guy was pretty much hit with a mack truck." I thought he was in pain just now because he kept doing that dog whining thing. But I just spoke to the vet on the phone and apparently I've overdrugged him. He's just really high on morphine, and wants to voice himself.

All of this is because an Alaskan Malamute attacked Snowy in front of my house on the street. I managed to join the fray and pull that dog (who was gigantic) off of my dog. I thought my pup was going to lose his eye, perhaps have broken ribs, etc. etc. I've never heard him cry so loud in my life, and there was blood in his eye. We were saved by a lady named Beth who was driving by and witnessed the whole thing. She yelled for me to get in the car, I grabbed Snowy, crying and all, and we were off to the hospital. She told me I was crazy to jump in there, but I couldn't just stand by and watch my dog get torn apart. It would have been the equivalent of Barry Bonds jumping onto a midget, or something like that. This punk dog must've been 160 lbs. He was bigger than me. Snowy weighs 27 lbs. Luckily, I didn't get bitten, but if it was a pit bull I'd be dead. I'm pretty sure of that. Snowy seems to be okay now, other than just being really doped up because of his mom.

This has been a harrowing week (along with the past few). Thank god I get to go back to snowboarding tomorrow - where it's safe.

Just Back From The Hospital

Did not injure myself snowboarding this time, but cutting steak and managing to nearly slice my thumb off. There's blood on the cabinets in the kitchen because I flung my hand through the air in a state of shock. Yum.

I was sitting at the hospital putting pressure on my hand, when the nurse needed to take a look at it and pulled away my gauze. She fiddled around then left me, with no gauze. I didn't have anything to put pressure on the wound with, so my hand just lay there, blood forming a puddle around it on the sheet. It took me back to the time I accompanied my friend J. Evil to see a play of the "Night of the Living Dead." People wore plastic bags and the actors squirted blood into the audience throughout the play, so that by the end there were red rivers floating down the aisles. It was delightful. At the hospital just now, I literally sat there as people walked by and blood ran from my hand. It didn't hurt, so I didn't want to be a baby and ask for more gauze. Nobody ever said anything; it was a little strange, just letting it bleed. I wonder if every time I go to the hospital I'll think of that play we went to. The Living Dead folk really got the color of blood right.

These days I give thanks every Sunday for another week I stay alive. It would seem I'm trying to destroy my body one limb at a time.

Back to the mountain on Wednesday. Pray I don't open up the stitches. Must run for now, it hurts to type and it's taking forever.