Oliver has had a rough week.
His life is one big routine of walk, eat, drink, watch me get ready for work, eat, sit, lie, walk, lie, eat, sleep.
Starting last Friday we've thrown in medication two times a day, constant digging through his ears, checking is gums, staring at his eyeballs. We roll him over every other minute to check his rash; is it spreading? is it getting better? why is he wet? ohmigosh is that pee?
Then last night the poor guy was attacked.
By a Boston Terrier.
Corey let Oliver out to do his business while I waited inside.
No big deal. They do this every night.
But this night I hear a blood curddling scream come from outside. It was definitely a dog. But what dog??
Oh Christmas candy, that dog has finally killed something.
I seriously thought my dog, who has aggression issues toward most dogs, had finally done damage to some poor, innocent creature.
The shame...the anguish.....the vet bills!!
I ran out the door, so did my neighbor.
"Was that your dog??"
The rest of our building was already outside. Including one of the neighbors holding his little -4 lb Boston Terrier. He was upset. Corey was upset.
Oliver was confused.
I was confused.
It wasn't until we were back upstairs and Corey had texted our vet before I found out what happened: the teeny little dog was also outside doing her business when O-dog came down. Being super excited to see who he thought was his friend, her brother, he rain toward her. She, being not entirely pleased, lunged at him, grabbed ahold of his neck and did not let go.
Enter dog screaming.
Corey and another neighbor were able to seperate them.
I checked for damages and judging by the seriously awful sound of his screaming I was looking for missing chunks of skin, maybe a tooth.
Nothing. Just some redness, a little bruising, and one littttle tooth hole that produced half a drop of blood.
Fine. Everyone was just fine.
Except Corey. And the neighbor who owned the dog.
But boys will be worriers.
This morning was the icing on the cake. Out for our morning walk I noticed dark clouds rolling in.
After everything that's happened, wouldn't it be just great if it rained on us?!
Famous last thoughts. It did rain. And it was not great.
Oliver and I were stuck in a downpour a little less than a mile from our apartment.
Do I wait it out under a tree?
Do I run all the way home?
(rains even harder)
I ran with my glasses in my hand, Oliver shaking off every 10 feet, water in my eyes, cars driving by most likely commenting on how dedicated an athlete I am.
Corey was waiting for us on the porch with a few towels.
Great way to start the day! Possibly a hint of what's to come for the weekend? Let's hope not.