Friday was a day of disasters. It all started when I made a rash decision to walk the mutts. We hadn't even left the courtyard when an evil space monster from the Andromeda galaxy jumped out from behind a stone wall. With no warning, the devious being, which resembled a white poodle mutt, attacked. Zero took the first blow and ended up on his back with the creature from the blue lagoon on top. I had no idea what to do, except to try and pull Zero away by his leash. I was in a bit of a hurry to get the hell away, pulling both leashes with me, but Cerberus got in one last chomp. Unfortunately, it was on Tawny's tail. The worst part is that Cujo was on a flexileash (the thin leash that extends out of a plastic handle for somewhere around 20 feet) the entire time and his owner did nothing. And I mean NOTHING. Didn't move, didn't pull El Chupacabra back, didn't say a word. Her psycho "pet" was barking and attacking completely unprovoked (unless you count happening to walk by as provocation), and she stood there! Seriously, who does that?

After my initial round of panic, Naomi, who thankfully was already on her way over, helped me take the mutts to the vet. Zero's nasty looking stomach wound turned out to be superficial, but due to the area x-rays were required to check for abdominal bleeding. If the external injury had been worse, the vet would have recommended exploratory surgery to visually inspect the area. My eyeballs fell out when the vet first said surgery, but Naomi promptly dusted them off and popped them back in while the vet said it wouldn't be necessary. As for Tawny, the vet had to shave part of her tail to get at the puncture wound. With the fur gone, it really looks like something took a bite out of her tail, but as long as no one goes near her tail, she doesn't seem bothered by it.

After we brought the mutts home from the vet, Naomi and I went shopping. There's nothing like a bit of retail therapy after absolute chaos and bleeding tails.

Later that day, the phone rang an ominous death toll. As I ran for the office phone, my socked feet lost traction on the hardwood floors. SMASH! My right pinky toe was rather displeased with its violent introduction to the base molding it had previously only viewed from a distance. The worst part? It was an automated marketing call from Verizon.

Late Friday afternoon is NOT the time to injury oneself since doctors tend to have stopped making appointments for the week. In other words, I spent the weekend hobbling around on a swollen and oddly colored toe. But I did wake up early today to get an appointment, and get an appointment I did.

The doctor took x-rays of my foot and pronounced my toe to be officially broken and me a klutz. Here are the before and after x-rays:
 
I highlighted the newly-formed gaping chasm in red for your viewing enjoyment.

As of press time, Matt is yet to be injured. I can't help but expect a fork-wielding koala bear to attack him in the shower tomorrow morning.