Yes, folks, we had to take Lucy to the vet again yesterday. She broke another nail off in the bed, leaving it sore and bleeding. She is, again, on pain killers and antibiotics. She is, again, wearing her cone. The people at the vet's office thought it was cute that she not only has her own cone, but that we've started decorating it with punk stickers - bands and the like.
We've started wondering if perhaps friends and family could purchase us credit at the vet's office for Christmas presents from now on. It's a gift that would surely get some use. I don't know if the office does that sort of thing, but it's worth a shot. Gift cards, perhaps? Or, really, I suppose people could just send us more punk stickers.
We wondered aloud while waiting for her to come out of the surgery room yesterday how we ended up with this accident-prone dog. Kelly blamed me because she picked me to want to come home with. I blame him because I think she got it from his genes (whereas me and Radley are the healthy, non-accident-prone ones in the family).
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