Please tell the STAFF that I feel fine!

So, back to the vets to check out the lump in my leg. Apparently it is just a sprained muscle. I'm sure I told you! In any case, I feel just fine, and would be quite happy to go running again. Honestly! All this sitting around is making me feel stir-crazy... but the vet convinced the STAFF that I should be rested more. I can't take it anymore! I miss the woods. The smells. The freedom!

The only slight sliver of hope is that I will start going swimming in a couple of weeks, some kind of hydrotherapy. I imagine it is going to be exactly like the Walchensee. 

Ah, memories of happier days...

The STAFF showed me some details of the place on the interweb, but there is no picture of the actual lake I'll get to swim in. No doubt it is just an oversight! And look at that poor fellow in the hoist. Thankfully this has nothing to do with me...Phew!

Help! I am under house (ar)rest!

The traitor STAFF dragged me to the v.e.t.s -- can a guy not limp in peace for a few days? Huh? Anyway, the v.e.t. - demon of the dark abyss she is - told the STAFF not to take me out for about 4 weeks or so. 4 weeks! Do you know how long that is in dog years? 109 years! Possibly more.

I am already plotting a dastardly plan of how to shorten this rest time. 109 years for a bit of a sprained paw? Pah! 

In 3 easy steps I'll be back to the best woods. Step 1. Look depressed. Step 2. Add some heavy sighing. Step 3. Throw up. Step 3, incidentally, should be quite easy right now. On of the last trips to the best wood I found a very aromatic mole - couldn't have  been dead for that long. So, I dug it up and ate it, natch! Little bugger didn't want to stay down though. The STAFF took a photo when it came back out, but they won't let me post it here. Squeamish like a kitten, I say! Anyway, the old tummy is still a bit iffy after that. 

It'll have to wait until the sun's gone down to start on Step 1. I cannot quite manage a miserable expression when I am this hot and, frankly, happy.

Don't worry, I'll get there. And I will keep you posted!

Ouch...ouch...ouch!

Ouchy! Can you see my nail all torn and the quick exposed and ..... [Sorry, I fainted just then]. It is all rather sore. What happened, I hear you cry? Well, I was on an early morning hunt in the woods in the dark and I must have caught my foot on something and torn the top of my nail off. Of course the STAFF were nowhere to be seen. And why do they force us out before sunrise anyway. I put on a brave face: Know No Pain - that's my motto.

I only licked it very surreptitiously when I was resting in my batchelor pad after the morning's exertion, but the &%$# STAFF with their hypersensitive perception noticed it anyway and dragged me to the Vet's, as I knew they would. Traitors!

And the vet said I had to rest and not exercise until the nail had hardened, because if I split it further I'd need an operation to have the nail removed and my paw would be bandaged for weeks.
Well, it's a risk I would take, and I explained that to the STAFF. But no! Do they take me out? Do they take me out? Do they heck! I have to drag them around the streets in the morning, which is not very comfortable at all.
And I am soooo bored. Please send sympathy.

One interesting obervation: as soon as I lick my poorly paw, the STAFF proffer food, play games, cuddle me or give me some kind of attention. Hmmm, maybe I'll be able to while away the boredom over the next few days after all...