Anyone out there know how to break a Christmas curse? Not sure if we need a witch doctor, a voodoo priestess, the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future, or an exorcist (OK, probably not that last one).
Normally, I love, love, LOVE this time of year – Christmas, Yule, Hanukkah, we celebrate them all! And I’m a twelfth day of Christmas baby. Holidays good!
But a bad luck trend appears to be developing around our household on December 25. Last year, I took a spectacularly embarrassing fall and wrecked my knee, requiring surgery and many months or rehab. My right leg still doesn’t function quite right. This year we opted for a nice, safe walk on paved country roads around a local winery. What could possibly go wrong?
Then I noticed my darling, exuberant, sweet-tempered Vizsla (Remember, Ashton?) standing in a pool of blood. Wait, BLOOD?!?!
Her tail was wagging non-stop and her furry face looked to joyful. I thought, Oh no! Something must have died and Ashton stepped on it.
Alas, no. What Ashton had managed to step on was some hidden wicked thing that pierced through her paw…we never located the vicious object and Ashton didn’t even seem to notice anything had happened. It took us quite a while to convince her that she was injured, but the pain finally caught up with her during the horrid examination and cleaning process at home. In the picture above, she is wearing my inept field bandaging (a.k.a. a creative new use for orphaned socks) and waiting patiently for her vet appointment.
The humans of the household spent a jolly Christmas night cleaning up what looked like a crime scene around the house.
Bah humbug. Seriously.
Slay the Writer 