The Hang Nail


A couple weeks ago we heard Polo crying outside. And limping. Right about then my heart broke into so many tiny pieces I lost count. Kind of like that bucket of micro Legos you used to play with as a kid. But doubled.

After taking Polo to the vet, we discovered he hurt his paw. More specifically, his nail. So what you’re telling me is I paid $250 for you to tell me my dog has a hang nail, I asked the vet. Just kidding. I only asked her that in my head. She loaded us up with antibiotics and a soothing gel, but the key was to keep him from licking his wounds. He should leave that to me since I’m, like, a professional.

I’m still hurt for not being invited to Jen Castro’s slumber party in fourth grade.

Polo’s been wearing a cone and a bootie to keep him from agitating his paw…and I’ve taken to calling him My Lil Pirate. He hobbles around with his pseudo peg leg and I’m tempted to attach a parrot to his shoulder.

In efforts to make him feel better, I invited Polo to a slumber party last night. Take THAT, Jen Castro.