My Poor Dog!

For those of you not in the know, Tuesday is the day my dog, Trifle, and I go to a local long-term care facility. (She's a Certified Therapy Dog.) Tonight we visited one of our usual patients, a teenager with CP. Normally, when we visit K, he's got padded mitts on so that he doesn't pull his feeding tube out. Tonight, his dad was with him so his hands were free. I picked up Trifle and held her over his chair, and he started to pet her. Then he got a solid hold on her collar, and twisted. Yikes. Poor Trifle was starting to cough a bit, and K's dad and myself were desperately trying to unclench K's fist and get him to let go of Trifle's collar. I had just gotten her collar unhooked when K let go. His dad apologized, but I really wasn't worried or upset. Things happen. Some of the patients there are extremely unpredictable, but that comes with the territory. Trifle didn't cry, or show signs of stress or fear. She gave a cough here and there, and waited for us to free her. She's a tough ol' gal.

Then, on the way in from the car, as I was trying to unlock the door, I dropped my whole damn ring of keys on her head.

My poor dog.