No Drama River and the Bad Paw

Hello readers:  It is I, River Song.  You may not remember me.  It has been nearly a month since I last blogged because my sister Pocket is a blog hog.  Nothing aggravates me more than someone bogarting our blog.

Of course, I had to cede my blogging privileges to Pocket because of all the “drama” that has occurred in her life.  A storm kept her up at night:  “Oh please, Pocket needs to blog about her bad night.”  Pocket has a tick that looks like a growth:  “You have to let Pocket blog about her frightening week!”  I had a tick on me.  I didn’t get all Tolstoy about it.

I try to steer away from drama which is why I felt guilty when I went out to pee and came back inside limping.  There was no blood, but I was favoring my right leg.   I am “No Drama River, ” and my limping was definitely drama.  I was sure I could fix the problem by licking following the golden rule that licking trumps limping.  This golden rule did not work.  My limping became worse.

I immediately got lots of attention.  Mommy held me, and Daddy inspected, then Daddy held and Mommy inspected.  They found swelling around my paw pad but could not find any cuts, blood or foreign objects.  Mommy asked her Facebook friends what they thought.   Everyone was very helpful, but I objected to the idea of wrapping it or worse, wearing the cone of shame.

(During this Pocket tried to gain back the drama with a twenty minute collapsed trachea attack but been there, done that, at least for this attack.)

The next morning I started to get special treatment.  I was carried outside to the pee spot where I promptly pooped since it was the least I could do considering my parents’ kindness. When I came back inside my foot was soaked with warm water and anti-bacterial soap as it would be each time I went out.   

Wednesday morning I messed up bad.  Daddy caught me going to town licking my paw.  When my parents checked it the wound was swollen.  They made a vet appointment for Thursday morning which was a bummer.  I still got lots of attention, and, when Pocket went on her walk, I got to ride in our buggy, like I was the Queen, waving to my subjects.  That was awesome.

This morning I went to vet.  She looked at my paw, felt me all over, and said I was suffering from allergy, most likely from mold spores.  She said my raw paw was self-inflicted.  I did not appreciate that.  I never self-inflict.  I have standards.

I got a steroid shot, and steroid pills to help with the allergy.  I didn’t need to get my foot wrapped, and, unless I can’t stop licking my paws, which I should because the medication will stop them from itching, then I might need the cone of shame.  Please pray for no cone of shame.

Now, not only do I get special ear washes, but I am going to get foot baths too.  I really do like the attention.  

A little scratching and rawness is a small price to pay for lots of attention.