We have a wounded puppy dog among us.

Yesterday I called Rolo up onto the bed with me for a nap and he was at the foot of the bed. This is not within close enough cuddling range, so I tried to pull him closer. When I did so, he let out the saddest, sharpest little whimper. I thought that was strange but didn’t think too much of it. Then later in the evening he was on the couch with me (I know, I know, he’s spoiled beyond measure…deal with it) and I was petting him. Again, he whimpered. I noticed that it seemed to be if I got too close to his back haunches he would let out a yelp. I tried to get a closer look at the area, but Rolo kept on running away. He was scared that I was going to hurt him, I guess. Poor little fella. Seriously, when he is scared it is the saddest and cutest thing you have ever seen. His big ears fold back, he crouches down low, dips his head, and wags his tail in fear. It makes me want to cry. I came over to him and talked quietly and told him that I wasn’t going to hurt him and that I needed to see what was wrong (yes, you can call me the Dog Whisperer). He complied and cowered while I looked at his furry little doggy haunches. I lifted up the fur and saw that he had a big, gaping wound that was still bleeding a little. I couldn’t tell what kind of cut it was. Had he been attacked by a marmot or coyote? Or had he snagged himself on a barbed wire fence? What happened?

When Steve came home he looked at it and decided that the best course of action would be to shave the area to get a closer look, then clean it thoroughly. I am so glad he was there to tend to such matters, because I don’t think I could have done it.

Steve got the clippers out and called Rolo into the bathroom. Rolo slinked in, awaiting his fate, and Steve proceeded to give him a brush cut on his bum. Then he cleaned the wound with rubbing alcohol and the whines and whimpers Rolo let out were enough to make my heart shatter.

He seems OK today, and we’re keeping an eye on the spot to make sure it doesn’t get infected.

Oh, Lolo.