I was giving Dylan some ‘lead training’ out at the beach last night to try and prepare him for some sort of ‘obedience’ during the coming winter nights; we go up there for last hour of light, at which point the rabbits are at their most lively: sometimes I really lose him. Ollie was on the loose while Dylan was on the lead, and Ollie (unusually for him these days) shot off after a rabbit. Dylan reared up at this, so I let him go, to join in the sport. I lost sight of Dylan; meanwhile I heard crying: Ollie had injured his leg, and was holding it up pathetically. He would not move, so I had to carry him to a high spot in order to see where the hell Dylan had got to. Finally I sighted him and told him to Wait! (he will do this now, though he will not actually return). I got hold of Dylan, then I returned to Ollie, and then the three of us made our way back to the car, which was about 800 yards away, with Ollie on three legs and doing a sit down every ten paces. It took a long time. Dylan was thoroughly unconcerned: dogs seem to have no empathy for a fellow in distress. It looks like it’s just a sprain, in fact, though the x-rays have been sent up to his orthopedic expert as they ‘look a bit funny.’ The gap between the radius and ulna is not the right shape where it meets the carpus (the sight of the sprain), and there is some concern he might have a bone infection. He has been a regular at the vets again lately, having picked up kennel cough while we were on holiday (Dylan was fine.)
Here is a old picture from the old days when he had a season ticket to the vets. This was just a routine ‘I’ve slashed my pad again’ moment.
The Original Sicknote