On Christmas Eve, Tate was a bit melancholy so I took him to the local high school (closed for the holiday) to partake in some zoomies.
Since some inconsiderate pitbull owner was hogging the baseball diamond, we went to the beach volley ball pits.
Tate did lots and lots of sand zoomies. But all was not well. After a few brisk laps, he stopped cold. He had picked up a ton of thorns and stickers in hid feet. I pulled them all out and we headed home, tired, but happy.
Then on Christmas day, he started favoring his right front paw. Not really worried at first, as he could put weight on it, and he walked fine, but later in the day it began to bother him more and more.
Christmas night it was clear he was in a lot of pain. The evening walk was truncated (a rarity for him) and he became snappy to Barbara and his brother. No good.
This morning, I could barely get him to go 100 feet on our walk, and not even to relieve himself. No bueno.
Fearing the worst, we packed him up and went to the vet, thinking that perhaps in his spirited sprinting that he had broken one of his toe bones (his “toe” was looking swollen, and it was clearly painful.)
The good news was that there was no break, but it did look like he had a puncture wound that was getting infected. A week of antibiotics and some mild pain medicines, and he should be right as rain.
Still, it is sad to see him in pain. Poor little dude.