Doggone it

This photo is from March. I took it before I realized the full import of what I was looking at. To put it simply: That chewed-up bottle cost me $3,000.

In a joint effort, Jackson and Lucy had emptied it of doggy anti-inflammatories, which I discovered when I got home from work. Enough pills to cause serious kidney and liver damage. So the dogs spent three days at the emergency vet getting fluids flushed through them.

Fun! Expensive! I keep the bottle taped to the back door now, so I remember to do a sweep of the counters before I leave.
Here's a picture from today. At the emergency vet again. Jackson is watching "The Princess Bride" while Lucy gets her foot looked at. I was next door talking to the neighbor and came home to find puddles of blood on the patio and the kitchen floor. Not drops. Puddles.

Poor Miss Lucy had completely sliced open the webbing between two toes while running around the yard and roughhousing with Jackson.
I had to leave her at the vet while I went to work (Jackson stayed to keep her company), because the clinic was backed up with more dire emergencies.

She has a splint to keep the pressure off the foot. I am not allowed to walk her for three weeks. She is also supposed to wear a cone 24/7 and be confined when I'm not in the house.

Well, the cone isn't going to be on while I'm around; it's simply not necessary. But I had to get out the big cage for when I'm gone. She's not going to be a happy camper.

Me neither.