On Wednesday, while working in the kitchen to prepare for Thanskgiving — Mom's out of town and somehow I became responsible for feeding Those She Left Behind — I accidentally stepped on July's paw. As ususal, she was laying in the middle of the kitchen floor, and I didn't see her. It's proving a costly oversight.
She limped throughout the evening Wednesday and resolutely kept the paw away from me. I assumed at the time that I'd simply stepped on her paw. An inspection on Thursday revealed that I'd actualy stepped on the claw, breaking it at the pad. Yee-ouch.
You know you've got a good vet when he takes time out of his Thanksgiving Day vacation to respond to your desperate texts for treatment advice. He was in South Carolina for the holiday, but he told me how to treat it until the clinic reopened for business on Saturday. Those two days felt like an eternity.
This morning, the vet that I saw (my vet still being out of town) told me that the break was as bad as I'd feared. July was prescribed a proactive course of antibiotics to begin immediately and has been scheduled for surgery to remove the nail and the dead tissue around it on Monday.
So that's latest holiday horror story: I stepped on my child's foot and broke it. You're up next, Christmas. Hit me with your best shot.
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