Gandy has discovered a toy that fights back: the 24” green gym ball that broods in the shadows, over in the corner under the coat rack. It was random, I suppose, that in the act of going after some other less participatory toy behind it, she bumped up against it and it bumped her back.
It wasn’t long before the bumps on her part were non-random and provocative. And one thing leading to another, the green ball has been bumped across all parts of the downstairs that Gandy has access to below the two steps into the rest of the house.
Last night, I threw gasoline on the fire, and redirected the ball when it got penned in a corner, in an effort to run down her batteries and bring bedtime a little closer. I reached down one more time to propel the ball towards the hallway.
She nailed me. She was going for the ball, but my hand was in her path, and one of her Velociraptor teeth sunk to the bone of my left-hand ring finger. I’ve not had that particular quality of acute pain since the falling tree clipped my knee a couple of winters ago.
After fifteen minutes of compression inside the toilet-paper blotter, the bleeding subsided. The wound was deeper than wide, but located right at the bend of the second joint, so we wrapped it to prevent flexion overnight. Typing this morning, I feel a little like Chester Good on Gunsmoke, with this one finger stiffly limping across the keys, trying to keep up with the others.
While she sleeps. I actually had an undisturbed cup of coffee! But the price to be paid is: I’m freezing. I’m not about to crumple paper or break twigs to build a fire, only one room away from a sleeping velociraptor. I might as well sound reveille on a trumpet.
â–¶Â YOUR BEST GUESS: Gandy’s mother is a known, apparently predominantly German Shepherd. The pups were advertised as Shepherd-Lab mix. We’re not seeing the lab. But what are the breed influences YOU see in Gandy? Her coat is very short and not soft. Her face is a little square, with some possible boxer influence, maybe? She bears someÂ resemblanceÂ also in her ears and muzzle to a baby pit bull. She promises to be long of leg and neck, especially compared to our more familiar thick-necked labs, and has already entered that awkward adolescent stage, without the acne.
If you have a guess about breed contribution, please share–not that it matters, we’re just trying to anticipate when this thing living with us will stop growing, and when full grown, what might her demeanor be? So far, so good, the deep puncture wound forgiven.
Uh-oh. I hear whimpering. I’d better post this if it’s going to get done any time today. Let the Wild Rumpus begin!