The Agony of Da Feet

This is Kyia. We rescued her over a year ago and she’s become such a sweet little girl, I mean look at that face! How can you not love this little sweetheart?


Kyia (and her partner in crime, Keisel) are not supposed to be in the kitchen while I’m cooking unless they’re getting a drink or eating. Wednesday night I was slicing up some chicken that I had cooked and Kyia had to be reminded several times that she wasn’t welcome in the kitchen – more especially her nose shouldn’t be on top of the counter sniffing at the cutting board.

At some point she slipped past my line of sight and got back into the kitchen behind me. Apparently she was so excited by this she decided to celebrate by bringing her chew bone (a 6″-8″ section of beef shank) over to me to trade for some chicken. In the heat of the moment during her celebration she thought that spiking the bone on the floor (À la Gronkowski) was a spectacular idea.


So now here we are T+ 36 hours or so from the incident and the consequences of her decision or painfully evident. This is a picture of my foot. Taken this morning.


My foot happened to be between the floor and Kyia’s chew bone at the unfortunate moment of the “spike”. It hurts to move my toes. It hurts to wear shoes. It hurts to walk. I’m pretty sure something is broken, but it’s toes. I’ve had broken toes before – not a lot they can do about them, but it may be wise to have them checked anyway…

Some foul words were said. Many stars were seen. Some yelling was done. But we made up. I know it was an accident, and she’s such a sweet fur baby, but – bad dog, Kyia.

Bad. Dog.


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