I'm not entirely clear on how it started. Maybe boy dog informed small dog that she is getting fat (which is true, she is putting on a bit of weight, but so is he, and they were both bone skinny to begin with so a bit of weight is healthy, but true or not it would be an impolite thing to comment on.) Maybe small dog said something rude about boy dog's Mother (forgetting for a moment that they are litter mates, so an insult to his Mother is an insult to her own. She is just spastic enough to make that mistake). Maybe boy dog revealed that he was the one who ripped small dog's favorite toy to shreds.
I don't know who started it. I just know that the normal sounds of two dogs playing suddenly turned extra growly, extra barky, and they got extra rolling around and trying to grab each other by the throat.
The last time this happened small dog ripped boy dog's ear to shreds. It was terribly sad and scary. They usually play like the best of buddies, but that one day someone took something too far and it got ugly.
Since that day we have been very careful to break it up early if things just sound "extra" and Saturday their playing turned "extra."
Usually a verbal command can break it up and they separate for a ten minute time out in their crates. (My dog training sound suspiciously like my parenting, wonder if that is a good thing or a bad thing. It is probably the reason my children will all end up in therapy.)
Saturday my verbal commands were ignored.
This was bad.
I did not want to stick my hand in the fray and get bit. Ordinarily the dogs would never bite me. Boy dog has an especially soft mouth when he is playing or taking a treat. But when they're in a frenzy like they were they probably would not realize it was me or my hand. I wasn't taking any chances.
But I also did not want their argument to end in blood shed.
So I did the only thing I could think of.
I'm not entirely proud of this but I kicked small dog.
She was on top, and acting very much the aggressor (in hindsight maybe the safe money is on boy dog calling her fat).
I aimed for her stomach.
I probably deserved what happened next.
She moved and I kicked her leg with the side of the ball of my foot.
Holy pain.
With a cry I crumpled to the floor.
My agony did what my verbal commands and ineffective kick could not. The dogs came over to see why I was on the floor.
The children put the dogs in their crates and brought me an ice pack while I sat on the floor clutching my foot and crying. It hurt so bad. It all happened so fast, maybe I missed the dog and kicked an invisible brick wall that I didn't know was in my kitchen. Maybe the angelic guardian of animals held his shield in front of small dog and I kicked that instead. What ever I kicked, it was hard, and it hurt like you wouldn't believe.
And just like that, on Saturday, I won the knitting lottery!
A foot injury.
It hurt to walk. My big toe was all numb. A dark bruise was forming.
My children felt sorry for me.
A bona fide legitimate excuse to sit on my butt and do nothing but knit for the rest of the afternoon.
At the time I worried that I had broken my foot. But lots of ice and ibuprofen and I was fine by Sunday with only a bruise to show for my troubles.
I tried to take a picture of my bruised foot. But it is hard to take a picture of your own foot. You have to be a highly skilled contortionist. I am not. So I couldn't manage a good shot. That and I remembered how ugly feet are, and how much I hate them, and I just couldn't bring myself to put a picture of an ugly bare foot on my blog, no matter how cool the bruise.
Instead I will just have to show you pictures of my mad knitting skills.
My sweater from the frogged Ravellenic project is in a time out.
I've knit the body.
But I'm not loving the ruffly thing the hem is doing right there.
I probably need to block the sweater to see if I can make that go away. The reality is I hate blocking. I love the results, but the actual process feels too much like laundry to me. And we all know how I loathe laundry. So the sweater will probably remain in the closet where I have sent ti for time out for a year or so. Then someday in the not so distant future I will stumble upon the sweater, frog it, and try to knit something else.
With the purple sweater being such a disappointment I turned to something new.
Pork Chop's Christmas sweater.
Or as I like to call the Christmas Sweateres, her Weasley sweater.
I am using the yarn I frogged from the store bought sweater the other day. Once I got used to knitting with acrylic (I'd forgotten how it has no "give" at all) the knitting has been lovely.
I'm not sure if I'm lucky or offended that I can be sitting right in front of her, knitting her sweater, and she doesn't ask at all what I'm knitting. I am either very lucky, or I have been relegated to the status of a throw pillow on the couch. I am merely decorative as I sit and knit.
Maybe I should be flattered?
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