You Won't Stray From the Path

Dear Leo,

Today your daddy pulled two pieces of glass out of your foot- the size of a grain of sand, each. We're not sure yet if he got it all out, or not. He says anything still in there will continue to work it's way to the surface. He was successful in this attempt only after a fruitless week of my own efforts. I don't remember which day you began limping, but you have done so off and on all week.

Yesterday you showed no problems and had a great walk, the day before, I called it quits after two miles. The cold, the wind and your discomfort did me in. I'd have left you at home alone that day, and just taken Kansas out, but I didn't know how you'd do at home alone during that time.

I'd asked your daddy several times to look at your foot, but today was the first day he had the time. I, myself, had noticed you limping on... Wednesday, I think... and had inspected the foot in question, taking note of something seeming to be stuck in the pad, not sure how far in, but flush with the skin. I couldn't scrape it out right there, so we went back inside, where I managed to make a small cut with a straight pin, easily spying the object but unable to grasp it and pull it out.

We need to invest in a pair of needlenose tweezers. All we have are the blunt tips.

After creating a sizeable cut on your foot, I gave up, and you walked just fine.

We continued to monitor the cut in the coming days, occasionally expressing some blood, clear fluid, or pus, alternately.

You limp on pavement, but not on grass or carpet. You limp during extended walks, but not on brief trips out to potty, until yesterday.

This morning you limped badly, from the beginning, and since daddy was home, I brought you back in and left you in bed with him while Kansas and I walked alone. That was the first time in three years that I've only walked with one dog. It was weird. I felt naked. But it gave your daddy the time to spend with you that was needed in order for him to really inspect your foot. He put you in the tub to soak it, softening the skin and swelling the tissue. I'd been meaning to do that, but the water to the apartment complex was shut off all day yesterday, and I didn't get the opportunity.

When I returned home it was reported that he'd gotten two small pieces out, and that you were very footsore as a result. You're still resting, and limping when we do go out. We will check periodically to see if any more has worked itself visible.

I do remember the day you walked through glass. I do my best to keep an eye out for it, cursing the idiots that toss their beer bottles out the windows of their vehicles as they pass. Kansas, the 6-year veteran, moves out of the way effortlessly at the command "glass!". You don't. You refuse. The more I try to steer you with your leash, the harder you pull away in the opposite direction. Into traffic, into mud, into glass... She will even avoid anthills, while you tromp right through them.

If only you would just acquiesce that Mommy really does know best in this case.