Last night, David didn't get home from work until 9pm. We watched TV for an hour and then we went to bed...I was exhausted after a day of doing nothing except a couple loads of laundry, cleaning the kitchen, and making an awesome strawberry-blueberry cobbler. Well, Stella for the last couple of days has been licking one of her paws. We figures she might of cut her paw on a bush outside with thorns. No big deal. That heals. David and I, with Moose and Stella, crawl into bed and I quickly fall asleep within 15 minutes. I wake up around 12:30 hearing David go, "baby girl? you ok?" I'm thinking, of course I'm ok. I was asleep. But he was talking to Stella. Somehow, in the middle of the night Stella did something to her paw and she won't use it. David started calling her tripod...which for some family members might remind you of the little dog on Dauphine Island, and I giggled a little. But, apparently, I'm a bad dog mom because I said she is fine. She most likely sprained it and jumping out of bed and landed on it wrong. That was not what David wanted to hear and he most likely wanted me to get out of bed and try to look at her paw and be all lovely dovey....which at 12:30 in the morning was not happening. I jumped out of bed and picked Stella up and put her back in bed...since her paw was hurting...and said, honey, if your paw is still hurting tomorrow, I'll put an ace bandage on it. At this point David was pissed at me because I was not taking this serious. But all in al, Stella, is still limping, I'm not putting an ace bandage on her, and I'm going to have another relaxing day while David is at work.
Sunday, February 8
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