Today was just one of those days. One of those good-news/bad-news days.
The good news: Dinah has resigned herself to her life of captivity. It didn't come easily. This morning, the little stinker slashed out at my good hand--my only hand right now--when I bent down to stroke her head. I bled like a stuck pig.
Not being one to turn the other cheek--or hand--I scooped her up and threw her out the door into the cold rain.
Bobbin was thrilled. He took up post at the French door with the air of a Dallas Cowboy fan watching his 12-1 team play.
I left her out there for thirty minutes before letting her back inside.
It was magic.
She hasn't growled, snarled or slashed since.
The bad news is that I'll be having surgery on Friday. I went back to see the surgeon today for a checkup of my broken hand. My plan was to trade out my Kelly green cast for a crimson red one for the holidays. Instead I learned that my index finger bones had separated and slipped. It will take surgery to put them back and pins to hold them in place.