Harry and I just got back from the vet. He tore one of the toenails on his right rear foot four days ago. It was the only toenail he has that grows sort of normally. He has an autoimmune disease that affects his nail beds so his toenails don't really grow at all, and I haven't clipped his nails in years. So I don't often think to check on this one sort of normal toenail when I clip the other dogs' nails. And it grew really long. So long that it got caught and tore. Caught in what, you ask? Oh, in the grass while Harry was playing fetch with a tennis ball.
Yeah, he's a couple months shy of turning 16 years old, his eyes are cloudy and he's partially deaf. But he loves his tennis ball! These cool spring evenings we've had for the past few weeks have been perfect--the dogs can get a lot of exercise without overheating.
The toenail didn't tear completely off. I waited, hoping that it might fall off on its own but it got infected (took care of that with some Neosporin and a bandage) and it was clear that I needed to get it dealt with more decisively. And I figured, better for the vet to be the bad guy than me.
Harry has a senior wellness package with the vet that covers a lot of basics like blood work twice a year but I got an add-on for a bit more money: unlimited visits. In theory, that means I could take him to the vet every single day and, except for meds and consumables, it would cost me nothing. When I bought it, I thought, that's ridiculous, the idea of taking Harry to the vet every day. But these weird things come up and that add-on has more than paid for itself.
The vet got out the clippers and with a quick snip the problem was taken care of. Harry is a stoic dog (most fox terriers are tough little buggers) so he didn't even make a sound. Of course it bled like crazy, toenail and head wounds do that. She bandaged him up nicely and sent us on our way.
So my crazy old dog still loves to chase down a tennis ball. And I am perfectly happy to oblige him, even if we must deal with the occasional toenail incident. In fact, I'm sure that after dinner tonight, he'll be pestering me as usual, giving me that look, that head tilt, nudging me with his nose, all to remind me that it's time to go play!
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