Best doctor in the world is the Veterinarian. He can’t ask his patients what’s the matter. He’s just got to know. ~Will Rogers, American humorist, author, and actor

I Monkey here.

Mama’s cleaning the house, or decorating, or some such nonsense, so I’m commandeering her laptop because I have something BIG to complain about.

And her blog is just the place to do it.

The very day my brofur Domer got home for the Thanksgiving holidays, I Monkey did something to my left front foot.

Mama had sent me outside to potty while she was preparing my dinner, but I got side-tracked by a varmint trespassing in my yard.

Of course I gave chase. Wouldn’t you, if something untoward was in your domain?

I didn’t catch whatever-it-was, but I had a fine time racing the fenceline, feeling the cool wind ruffle my fur, and ever hopeful that I might eventually succeed.

Well, foiled again. Mama called me in, where I promptly dropped to the floor and started licking my paw.

When eagle-eyed Mama noticed blood on the floor, she shrieked for Domer.

The two of them fussed about like a grandma over her first grandchild. They tore an old T-shirt into strips and tied it completely around my paw, then they announced they had to leave for church.

Wait, what???

They tucked me into my crate — without my comfy bed — and took off.

Imagine that, people! Leaving your beloved family pet alone, bleeding, in pain, and scared while you trot off to who-knows-where.

For who-knows-how-long.

Humph.

When they returned, the blood had stopped so Mama freed me from captivity and fed me. We went upstairs to play, whereupon my paw started bleeding again.

Drat.

They tried the rag trick, but I Monkey wasn’t having any of it, so Mama texted my dogtur (it was after hours and a weekend, to boot).

About an hour(!) later, dogtur texted back, wondering where the bleeding was coming from.

By this time, Mama had Googled and learned it’s called a carpal pad, and it’s only on the front paws and is kind of where a human’s wrist is. The back feet don’t have one.

Would you believe dogtur NEVER responded? Nothing. No text. No suggestions. No reassurances. Nada.

Why, I Monkey could’ve bled to death, and dogtur wouldn’t have cared … after all the money Mama has shelled out to them, too.

Mama was furious!

Note: Come back tomorrow, and I’ll fill you in on the “rest of the story.” We’re closing comments on this part so you won’t have to write two times!