blood splatter analyst I am not.

while snoozing my alarm, I notice blood drops on my white comforter. Rome is asleep next to me and immediately I scour him for an injury. he appears fine... and newly irritated that I have woken him with such a stir.
scanning myself, I find no place for blood to escape.
I look at the ceiling and think, I can't believe I am looking at the ceiling.

there is just no way this makes sense.

I demote myself from Dexter status and get ready for work.

while painting my face, Rome meanders in to my restroom to observe. he dog-shakes his head... sending splatters of blood across the walls. the end of his airplane-ear cracked and is dripping. I hang a towel over him and tell him STAY.

the vets were oddly excited to fix him, informing me he would be returned to my arms wearing a babushka - they giggled their way to the back with him. after gluing the cut on his ear, folding and wrapping it on top of his head, he entered the waiting room Girl-with-the-Pearl-Earring style.

the enormous amount of sadness in his face skyrocketed my worry.
he would wear this for 3 days; it is very tight around his neck; do not let him exert a lot of energy; give him 1/4th of this pill, twice a day; $230.
ok ok ok.

after cutting every kibble-bit in half so that he could swallow easier, I told myself I needed to relax. I was convinced his wrap was far too tight and he would suffocate to death during the 5 seconds of every minute that I was not staring at him.

a few friends offered reassurance that he will be ok; others offered Photoshopped versions of Rome in famous paintings; I offered myself a cocktail.
thanks to all of those efforts, I felt much more at ease and left him alone.

Rome got through 2 nights of this before the vet removed it (whew) and I took over with a pathetic Aunt Jemima version.

mm, pancakes.

in other news...
...good thing I do not own a horse.
...today Rome is wrap-free and living it up as an apartment-dog in Campbell, California.
...Van Gogh's Ear is my favorite.

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