Dad decided to cut Biscuit's nails today. Biscuit HATES that. It takes two people. So I went down and held Biscuit on his back (80 lb dog here folks, he's not easy to handle) while dad cut his nail. On the front paws Biscuit jumped a few times made dad a little nervous but I kept 'shh'ing Biscuit and rubbing his belly.

Then... Dad did the back feet...

On the third toe, second paw, he cut too far down. Blood started dripping. And the kicker? Biscuit didn't flinch. Dad is freaking out, I can practically HEAR his heart pounding. I go "oh crap" and make dad hold Biscuit on his back until I get a Kleenex.

Thought: Okay.... Damn... Well... Bleeding should stop soon...

I hold it there for oh... five minutes. Bleeding should slow down right? I pull the Kleenex back. Damn it. He's still dripping blood. Fast.

I get peroxide and another antibiotic. I dab it on the end of the nail. Bleeding slows.

For about half a second.

I'm getting worried, but I keep telling dad it's no big deal, he's just bleeding and he's bleeding enough that we don't have to worry about infection really. Just to make sure it stops.

Ha... Doesn't stop.

I come upstairs and interrupt my mom catching up and the soap opera she missed today. "Uh, we have a little problem. Dad cut Biscuit's nails too far and he won't quit bleeding." She tells me to do peroxide." Okey dokey, I'll try that again.

FINALLY bleeding STARTS to slow down. But it's still enough to get on the carpet. Craaaaap... So I keep sitting there with dad hold Biscuit on his back trying to stop the bleeding. Finally dad says, "Just run him into the basement really quick." (We have a cement basement, walkout, where his kennel is. Don't worry, it's humane, he gets to walk around lol He only stays in there for when guests come over [certain ones] and when mom and I are at work. And sometimes he stays out on short days.)

Dad and I go upstairs. I hear dad huffing and sighing. I know he's pissed at himself.

I go in to ask mom what to do to stop the bleeding, dad says a gruff goodnight to her (no hug, no kiss, no I love you) and goes into the guest bedroom. I sigh and tell mom he's upset for cutting Biscuit. She asks me if the bleeding has stopped and if I wrapped his paw up.

Uh... No... He'll chew it off.

So then I get a lecture on not wrapping his foot off and with a sigh she asks if she should look at it. I say yes of course, mom's had dogs before, I only have ever had Biscuit.

We go downstairs and there is blood all over his bed. Damn. Damn. Did I mention damn?

Mom gives and "oh no" and lifts up his paw. "Get me something to wrap it with and some Neosporin." Okay.

I get that, flip Biscuit on his back and mom wraps his paw. Then he's walking around with that foot in the air and licking his blood spots up off the bed. "Cannibal," mom laughs.

I start to go upstairs and I notice her standing looking at him worriedly while he continues to lick his bed.

"Mom-- he's fine. If he weren't fine he'd be fretting over the paw."

She glances at me and nods.

I mean, isn't that the beauty of animals? They don't fake it. They hurt, they let you know. Sometimes by biting you but hey, it's something. At least they don't fake it like we do. Backache? No way, we don't want people to think we're, you know... OLD! lol People fake everything animals fake nothing unless it's being meek and they do that right before going in for the kill lol Animals let you know they hurt. And they let you know if it's bad, if you're paying attention enough to notice.

Animals rock.