f r e s h s t a r t

Thursday, February 08, 2007

 

You know how those Swedish gangs are

When I adopted my dog Henry in January of 2004, I had never had to walk a dog before. Not that I hadn't taken my childhood dog for walks, but she preferred to run around the backyard. Henry needed to be walked at least three times a day, and walking up and down the residential streets in our neighborhood got boring pretty quickly, so one day soon after getting him, we ventured out into the commercial area of Andersonville. After walking a few blocks he started limping and whining as if he was in pain. My first thought was . . . my dog stepped on a razor blade! Because you know the shopping district of Andersonville is just littered with them. I scooped the crying (40lb, 10 month old) puppy up into my arms and ran down a side street to a park. We sat down on a bench, I looked at his paws, and found what was causing the trouble.

Rock salt.

Live and learn. When he started limping this morning I brushed his foot off with my glove and made him walk in the snow to avoid the salty sidewalks.

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