It is hunting season in these parts. And our dogs are fawn-colored, so I do try to pay extra attention to their activities outside and keep them close by so that some drunken idiot with a semi-automatic from Wal-Mart doesn't blast my cherished objects of affection into strips of bloody carcass.

But there are more than hunters in them there woods. There is also the dreaded porcupine. And although you might think dogs are smart enough to avoid such a painful encounter, you would be wrong. Every dog I have ever had has at one time or another yelped in great shock and pain before arriving at my feet shaking, bleeding, confused and with a snout full of quills.

Last night John and Ally were over for our weekly Thursday night Survivor drunken dinner party and Belgian chocolate orgy. I took the dogs out for a quick pee before we settled down to watch the show. Ollie went off into the dark and I could hear him rustling about in the leaves. And then I heard the unmistakable sound of him finding another creature and all my calls to "come" went unheeded and soon there was the unmistakable yelp and a chagrined puppy at my feet.

Thank god John was here as he and T managed to remove 15 of the quills (because where was I? Huddling by the wood stove holding Henry crying-- I'm not your first choice under emergency circumstances and it takes two to do this job) -- which was a most wretched excercise if you aren't familiar with it. Then, the remaining ones (pictured above) were beyond their ability. So we had to leave them and this morning I bring my dog to the vet.

Poor baby. And I thought I had it bad with a pinched nerve in my ear. I so want to give him one of my big ibuprofen horse pills for the pain, but even if I could get it into his system, I don't know that he should have one. So I'll have to wait til we get to the vet's. *sigh*

But hey, let's look on the bright side-- at least I get to be late for work. TGIF everybody.

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