Well, last night was like some sort of hell-scene--although it started off completely normal.
We have 2 beasts: a wirehaired Portuguese podengo pequeno and a Kerry blue terrier. Both are female, spayed, and rescues. The podie is 1, the kerry is 3.
Anyway, the hubby and I were trying to decide what to do about dinner and I had just fed the beasties and given them their after dinner chewies. He was a bit frustrated since I had already eaten during the drive home.
I'm pregnant and I NEEDED a tuna salad sandwich with sour cream potato chips. Sue me.
Anyway, I hear the most horrible sound coming from the back yard and I realize our podie is no longer under the dining room table. Instead, she's gone outside. Where the kerry is. The dog who outweighs her by a good 20 lbs. At least. The dog who is obsessed with food.
Hubby runs outside to find out what the heck is going on and breaks up the fight. It was over the stupid chewies, but not the way I thought.
No, it was the teeny-tiny dog beating up the big one in an attempt to get a second chewy. It seems our terrier, whose breed I was warned numerous times is prone to dog-aggression, is a canine pacifist. Her tiny bully was completely untouched--at least until we got hold of her when she lost her purloined chewy and got dumped into the bathroom for a time-out.
After a time it became evident that some of the gauges were bad enough that the bleeding wasn't going to stop on it's own (several paper towels and one pair of horrific khakis later) off to the emergency room we went.
Turned out that it wasn't all that bad. Some of the bites were just in really bad places that are continually pulled, bent, shaken, and stretched (ears, lips, etc) so did need some help in healing. As expected, our canine pacifist took cauterizing, stitches, and several other uncomfortable procedures and had nothing but nuzzles and kisses for the vet staff.
We got home before it was too terribly late and I passed out from exhaustion, but early enough for me to make one final vomit-trek to the bathroom. I can't tell you how glad I'll be when this first trimester is over and I can get through a meal or snack without vomiting.
Everything settled down after a while. Kerry-girl was fussy, but I've no doubt she hurt. The evil podie was crated as is usual.
Unfortunately, it seems the kerry decided to move in the middle of the night and sleep directly in front of the bathroom door. When I got up to pee for maybe the dozenth time I tripped over her--causing me to fall and some of her more delicately glued owies to pop back open.
Me fixing her meant it was quite a while before I was able to fall back to sleep. I'm wiped out today.