Who dunnit?

Back in the mid-1980's, Bobby Krier told Stew one of the funniest jokes of all time. Anyone who knows Bobby will immediately assume the joke is distasteful, but that's not the case. The joke goes something like this: A dog walks into a saloon with a bandage on his leg. He limps up to the bar and takes a seat on a stool. The bartender comes over and asks the dog, "what'll it be?" The dog looks the bartender square in the eye and says, "I'm lookin' for the man that shot my paw."

Well... I, too, am looking for the culprit that injured my paw this morning. As you can see from the photo, my rear left paw has been bandaged, and I've been assigned to bed rest by Dr. Stew. While out in the backyard for my morning patrol of the perimeter, I encountered a lot of activity. First, the annoying border collie to the north was barking at me incessantly, so I did what I always do when this happens. I took a seat a few inches from the border collie's face - with the chain link fence between us - and I just stared at her with my you're giving dogs a bad name look. All this does is stir her up more to the point that she starts running figure-8's in her backyard. Once that occurs, I know my work is done. So, after crazy ass starts her figure-8 routine, I continue my patrol. Upon arrival at the northeast quadrant of the compound, my nemesis - the gray squirrel who sits atop the big maple tree - started a barrage of acorns in my direction. I juked and jived and averted all danger and continued my patrol. Next, in the southeast quadrant, I spy the neighbor to the south carrying a strange, white, plastic bag and placing it in a large receptacle that sits at the alley. Every Monday, a huge green truck stops by and removes the contents of the receptacle, and the odor is horrendous. Anyway, being the good sentinel that I am, I give the neighbor a warning "woof!" just to let him know I'm watching him. Then, after the neighbor retreats inside his fort, and I've confirmed our borders are secure, I return to the backdoor of our barracks and give a "yip!" (dog code for "I've completed my duties... now let me back inside"). So, as Grandma Judy (Stew's mom) is letting me in the house, we both notice blood coming from my rear paw. "What happened, Bogey?" she asked innocently, but I just stared at her as if she is possibly part of the conspiracy to damage my appendage. If I learned anything watching the great FBI Agent Fox Mulder (from television's The X-Files), it's to trust no one!

So... who dunnit? Well, it turns out that I must've stubbed my paw on the frozen ground. Yes, that's right... this mighty warrior and master sentry simply broke a nail. But we all know that there's nothing worse than when your nail is cut too short. Ouch! But after a couple hours bed rest, I'll be back on patrol because nothing keeps a good dog down.