My so-called journal

I was walking Foxy, the Pembroke Welsh corgi with food-guarding tendencies on Friday, and he lunged for a scrap of food in the street. Because he's had mucho training to try and break him of his treat-surfing, all to no avail, I grabbed him; he bit me and held on. See pic above for the results of this struggle.

[Note: One winter a few years ago he dived into a pile of snow as we were just leaving his building and came up with a chicken bone, which he promptly swallowed; it lodged in his throat and I walked him to his vet. Ever since then, the owners have pledged to get him training—apparently to no avail—and this is the result.

Foxy is a popular, well-liked lap dog (see below) with this one main quirk. I sent a text of my bloody hand immediately to the owners, saying I had to cut the walk short, and hightailed it to the ER—first to Beth Israel, which is closer but the guard expected me to strip for the metal detectors so I got back on the bus and went to Bellevue.



I spent about five hours at Bellevue being examined, waiting, and being X-rayed—in case the bone had splintered when Foxy had bit down—and was given scrips for two antibiotics. I left and before going home, detoured to Two Boots Pizza, where I got a slice of "The Vegan Pep" made with Bee-Hive pepperoni.



Motto: All's well that ends well.