Saturday Night Fever

I know it may come as a shock to all of you readers, however the average Saturday night in Boleland is typically pretty low-key. I hate to destroy the illusion of raver parties paired with loud club music, but regrettably that is not the case. Such was this Saturday night.

..............or so I thought.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I was loudly clacking away on my computer completing my homework essay on Accounting Transactions while the dogs were growling and playing out in the backyard.  They darted up onto the patio next to the sliding glass door like a pair of groupies rushing the stage at a Pink Floyd concert. I glanced over and did a double take when I realized there were strange colored paw prints all over the concrete. Rising out of the kitchen chair I slowly walked to the door and realized the color was strange because it was crimson. In fact, scanning the patio it resembled a crime scene straight out of a K-9 spin off of CSI.
I gasped and asked the two happy faces staring back at me expectantly "WHO'S BLEEDING!?" The tails wagged even harder now and the dumb young one looked down and realized there was an enticing fresh food source all over the ground just beckoning to him. "BENSON! STOP! *gag* Stop licking the blood!" I felt like maybe that was odd that my dog would be cannibalizing himself so by manner of deduction swiveled to the other furry face.  Peering at Loxi I see her back paw has dark red covering the tip, so I rush out to the patio and immediately slipped on a patch Benson had missed. *gag*
Between chasing Loxi to try to get to her without terrifying her, (who is quite skittish anyway and terrified of her own tail let alone a giant screaming human stomping after her) while hollering at Benson to quit licking the ground like frosting off a cupcake, and also trying not to vomit or slip on it, it was quite a challenge.  Finally, I came to my senses and pushed the fat dummy inside, while slowly creeping to Loxi who was sitting with her ears back and sad dog face as if she were in trouble.  Loxi had managed to rip of the entire nail on the back paw from its root while WrestleMania IV was transpiring. James happened to be on the phone with a longtime friend who he hardly ever talks to and I could hear him through the window in our bedroom chatting. In my prettiest damsel in distress voice I bellowed "JAMES! I NEED YOUR HELP! PUT ON SOME PANTS!"
We come to a conclusion that James will Google how to fix the injury, Noah will apply pressure with paper towels, while I run to Target and gather bandages and tape and dog nail clippers.  What I didn't mention was that the claw was dangling by a thread of flesh and it needed to come off. My stomach roiled at the very thought of re-opening the geyser, as it seemed to bleed like a head wound. While at Target I text my big sister just to make sure the process I had in my head was copacetic to what needed to happen to avoid infection. It was; except the part about not adding ointment, I was prepared to discharge an entire tube of Neosporin + Pain on her little toe, but logically was told that it would inhibit the scab forming. She confidently assured me I could clip the nail without barfing, and that it would be sore for a while and bleed like the dickens, but should heal quickly.
I raced into the backyard with all of my equipment, doused the clippers with Rubbing Alcohol and as I'm leaning down I notice an empty bag of Doritos on the ground next to Noah. "I got hungry".  I first tried to yank on the nail which sent up a collective surprised gasp among fellow Bolens so I held firmly to her foot and chanted internally "don't puke, don't puke, don't puke" and clipped the offending nail from it's fleshy thread.
I positioned a gauze patch on it, wrapped it with the ace bandage, then shimmied her foot into one of James' socks and taped the top with pink duct tape. She bounced right up with wagging tail and ran inside behind Noah

McDreamy can suck it.

Final step was to hose off the patio that looked like a pack of werewolves were conducting a midnight celebratory raindance after a bloody buffet. After what seemed like hours and gallons of water being spewed all over the cement, the evidence of the aftermath wouldn't completely disappear. I resigned myself to the fact that the patio will remain a delightful pink hue. 

In celebration of Valentines Day.