I sustained a VERY serious injury on Wednesday afternoon.

I was lying on  my couch in the basement of my Orillia home when I happened to look outside and see my dog, Harry, digging holes in the backyard.

 I LOVE my yard.  To see Harry ruining what will potentially be one of the best lawns in the neighbourhood, angered me to no end.

I also love my dog though.  Harry came to our home Labour Day weekend, 2007.  She looks like a little fox.  She is a mutt and she does not come when she is called.  She has ruined numerous pairs of shoes, a coffee table, a couple of area rugs, lots and lots of my children's toys and a pair of ear plugs (which I just found in the yard now that the snow has melted - BTW, ear plugs triple in size once they have been consumed and released by an animal).  But, I still love the dog and know that this 'is just a phase'.

Alas, I digress.

I jumped up from the couch, opened the sliding glass door and yelled "HARRY - STOP DIGGING".  She looked up at me with the usual 'deer in the headlights' look that says "you don't want me to do this?".  Deep down inside, I knew I had done nothing to actually stop the dog from digging holes in my soon to be pristine backyard. But, I guess it made me feel better to let her know that I did not approve of her tom foolery.

 After telling the dog to stop digging in the yard, I slammed the sliding glass door.  In doing so, I did not get my finger out of the way in time and I slammed my finger in the door like a squashed grape.  Below, you will see how bad the damage actually was.  Notice how the nail is cracked.  It will clearly fall off, given time.

I screamed like a small child and ran to bathroom as blood flowed freely from my cracked finger nail like a rushing river in the spring.  It hurt so much that I threw up in my mouth and swallowed it.  I dressed the wound and lay back down on the couch.  My nap for the afternoon was ruined. The throbbing pain at the end of my finger was all I could think about. 

The past 2 days have been very tough for me.  I haven't been able to hold a pen properly, work a mouse, I've had trouble typing, I can't pick my nose, washing my hair is a problem, turning the key in my truck's ignition hurts me, I couldn't do my fly up, nor could I tie my shoe or text message on my cell phone and so on and so forth.  Things I do, and take for granted, in everyday life are hindered by my injured finger.  The pain is utterly intolerable.

 I guess the funny part of this story, if there is one, is the fact that Harriot got the last laugh.  Little Harry went back to digging her holes in the backyard whilst I was to reduced to tears with the throbbing pain in my finger.

It truly is a dog's life.