Dog vs Cat vs Me

The cat won. No pictures of my arm, too gross. I was walking Patches at dusk Monday night when a farm dog from across the street from the campground wandered onto the grounds. He's a big old lab, very, very friendly, but Patches didn't know that and went into full cat hissy-fit mode. The dog thought she was playing, started barking and jumping, the cat got a fistful of the dog's nose which turned things ugly. I'm kicking at the dog to make it leave (and he's so pathetically friendly it didn't phase him) and I made the mistake of picking up Patches to run home with her (1000 feet away). DO NOT PICK UP A P*SSED OFF CAT. THEY BITE. A LOT.

Blood running down my arm, I finally chased off the dog and Patches climbed the nearest tree. I thought if I left her there to get Denny Patches would try to jump down from the tree and would hang herself on the leash, so I cajoled and talked and finally just dragged her out of the tree. It seemed to take forever to pull her home. Denny helped clean me up and after going to bed he decided I had to go to the hospital ER to be looked at. So by the time we were done, it was 1:30 in the morning, I had a tetanus shot, was given an antibiotic pill and a prescription for more, was wrapped up like a mummy from my fingers to my elbow and was very sore and tired.

The worst part? A fellow camper was walking by when this happened and he just kept on walking instead of trying to coax the dog away. Maybe he was afraid of dogs, maybe he was afraid of a crazed cat (and woman). Regardless, he better not show his face around me anytime soon.

I'm sore, my hand and arm have been swollen to almost double their size (it's better today) and it's well nigh impossible to pack things you've sold on eBay when your fingers don't bend. Bad timing for working on the house, too. I'm about useless right now and Denny is picking up the slack. And we always said that he picked me so I could push his wheelchair--well, it looks like it's the other way around for the moment.