Pepper came home from puppy playtime the other day with a wet sticky spot on her leg and a small limp. “She’ll be fine,” said the kind and capable young woman who dropped her off. “I’m not sure what she got into, but I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about.” The sticky spot was small and the limp barely noticeable, but I did what any reasonable pet owner would do and immediately rushed her to the vet, dashing through yellow lights on the way. (Correction: I did what I would do.)
After shaving around the spot on her left front leg, the vet found the cause of Pepper’s discomfort: a puncture wound. It was small, yes, but it was a legitimate wound, requiring antibiotics and even pain meds! “A puncture wound, Peppy,” I said, cradling her head. “A puncture wound,” she echoed, appropriately awed. “A puncture wound,” we repeated, and I carried her to the car, which she didn’t actually like.
By the next morning, the wound had completely closed up. Peppy ate her breakfast with gusto and was ready to chase the frisbee first thing. What?
“Peppy!” I exclaimed. “Your puncture wound. It’s – healed?”
“Healed!” she confirmed, dashing after the frisbee.
I caught up with her. “I guess it wasn’t that bad of a wound? Not as bad as we thought?” I asked.
I threw the frisbee again, and she ran fast and strong to catch it. The cherry trees bloomed white as snow.
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Happy Easter from Pepper and me! May there always be room in your mind and heart for the ineffable – the mysterious – the divine.