I’ve said it many times I am a klutz.  Now I’m telling you so is Gavin.  Occasionally Gavin follows Dear Hubby upstairs when he comes to wake me.  Gavin loves the idea of a good bed bouncing wake up call for me.  This morning was one of those days.  Even Patty got into the act.

     So there I was, helpless, under my covers, with two dogs and a husband pouncing on me.  DH thinks it’s hysterical because when they get the chance it is dogs gone wild.  It is on the bed, off the bed, on the bed, off the bed, leaping higher and higher, getting wilder with each leap…you get the idea.  Meanwhile I’m getting bruised, bashed, and smooched on by the two idiot dogs and DH is giggling like a fool.

     Finally, after I’ve suffered enough DH yells, “downstairs!”  And the pups are off down the hall and the steps like a shot.

     I weakly crawled out from under the covers and I notice a bit of blood on my bottom sheet near where they’d been hopping about.  Great, I strip the bed so I can get the bloodstain out of my BRAND NEW sheets.  I get dressed and carry the bedding down the hall.  I notice more blood—not a lot just spots of it on the floor. 

     I called downstairs, “Honey, check the dogs someone is bleeding.  Better check Gavin first.”

     I was right it was Gavin.  He broke a claw again.  Normally when Gavin does it, it means a vet run because the broken claw is never completely broken off.  At least this time he did it right, and we were easily able to stop the bleeding—dang, broken claws bleed like crazy.  He does this often, don’t know why, how, or how to stop it from happening.  It’s like me spraining ankles—I do it with great frequency.