When your toes are numb and you have a dodgy shoulder (calling sports med specialist about that today, finally) attempting to self-administer a pedicure is perhaps not a good thing. I did not cry nor did I puke when my shoulder let its displeasure be known, nor was very much blood spilled from about my toe-parts.
Thankfully Angus and Emma came to my rescue before further pedicarnage could be perpetrated – Angus snuggle-flomped into my lap, inserting his body between me and everything else, while Emma carefully inspected anything and everything in the bathroom that might have been involved in making me unhappy, then licked my face to let me know it would be all right. 185 lbs of concerned and cuddly canines in a teeny-tiny bathroom festooned lots of sharp implements somehow worked out just fine, as both dogs have a more delicate touch than I do.
Sadly, my toes are not the sparkly ruby-lacquered gems of my dreams. At least not today.
I smell like fresh-caught Pacific salmon.
I just gave, or attempted to give, fish oil caps to the dogs. Angus gobbled his down, good and trusting eater that he is. Emma the Picky Bitch sniffed at hers, tentatively touched the teeny tip of her tongue to one end of it, then sat back and looked at me. I know she likes fish, so figured she just needed a bit of encouragement. Crouching down, I bit a hole in the non-dog tongue-touched end of the gel cap. My intention was to squirt a bit of the fish oil into her mouth, as once she gets her tongue going it’s easy to shove all kinds of meds down her throat.
This is where things went awry.
Turns out the stuff in that there teeny stinky little gel cap is under a wee bit of pressure. I now have a more-or-less symmetrical blort of fish oil soaked into my tanktop, smack between my boobs. I also managed to spray a few droplets onto my left eyelid, and a bit more than that along the top of Emma’s nose and up between her eyes. Angus got very excited about the free-form fish oil bath and lunged at me, butt a’wiggling, trying to lick my eyeball. As I fell over, most of what was left of the oil squirted into my hand, which Emma was happy to lick clean. Angus helpfully ate the remains of the gel cap.
Maybe if I wear the tank top on the treadmill, I can close my eyes and convince myself I’m at the beach.
I just walked into the kitchen to add more sugar to my coffee (all hail hot and sexy mens who make me strong coffee) and caught a flash of movement to my right. Both dogs were standing in the den gazing up into the corner of the ceiling with big grins on their faces, tails wagging at half-speed. I asked them what they were so entertained by, and by way of reply they strolled over to me, still grinning, and sat on my feet. Neither looked particularly guilty of anything, nor did they seem to think my attention to the Fascinating Thing in the corner of the den was required.
As I stirred my coffee and sat back down at my computer, they trotted around the house in tandem, as if checking room to room for more of the Fascinating Thing that caught their attention (or perhaps other Fascinating Things – they still haven’t told me), then ran out in the backyard. They seem to have found it out there at the moment, floating in the sunshine, or perhaps tangled in the grass… their big doggy grins have taken on a touch of smug. I suspect within a few minutes of coming back inside Angus will feel the need to scan the bedroom floor for socks just in case another Fascinating Thing is hiding in a wonderfully smelly toe, and Emma will resume her station on the living room couch where she can keep both eyes out for more Fascinating Things.