Saturday, September 6, 2014

The Milk-Bone Incident

It's been two weeks since we brought Mattie home from the animal shelter. Integrating her into the family unit has been progressing smoothly:

  • Mattie gets an early morning work-out walk which helps to drain some of her mindful energy. Thataway, she doesn't stare down the Goaty Boys or bothers them with unnecessary (and unwanted) herding.
  • The Girls' free-ranging routine has been restricted to the time Mattie is on leash. Interestingly, after an hour of checking out their old stomping pecking grounds they all head back to the pen. It's a breeze to coax them back into the enclosure with a breakfast of produce trimmings and a few handfuls of the Goaty Boys' COB (Corn-Oat-Barley with molasses) sweet treat.
  • Introducing Molly has met a little hiccup due to her injuring her back leg. She's being rehabbed in the downstairs hallway/bathroom. Though the dog and cat did have several opportunities to meet one another nose-to-nose. They looked calmly at one another. A good sign.
  • The two dogs have been getting along like best buddies. They play with the same ball. Wait patiently after dinner to lick the other dog's bowl. 

Happier times (Mele on back)

Sigh. Till this morning's Milk-Bone dog biscuit fiasco. For the record, The Man has said he's told me "at least a dozen times not to give Mele dog treats. She can't handle it."

So the (mis)treat this morning led to a serious dog fight, Mele being the instigator, an emergency visit to the pet hospital, and a $$$ vet bill. This afternoon we picked up a groggy Mele, stitches and drains in the 2" round laceration - the worst of her multiple wounds. The other lacerations and punctures were cleaned but didn't require stitches. She looked a heck-of-a-lot worse coming home than when we took her in.

Worse for wear.

Mattie sustained only a few scrapes owing to a thick double coat and being younger and stronger.

Needless to say all dog treats are permanently banned.

And that includes anything worth fighting over.

Tomorrow . . . the E-Collar (cone of shame).