Don't Step Into the Middle of a Dogfight

Today Small Evil Dog decided to pick a fight with Wonderdog. In case you're wondering, Small Evil Dog is the one on the right. Don't be fooled by her cute face, she's like Cameron, the cute girl Terminator in the Sarah Connor Chronicles: she might seem like your friend but you never know when her chip is going to go bad. Today the chip went Wrong and she turned into the Terminator edition of a cute Beagle/Jack Russell terrier. Small Evil Dog chased one of our cats, got swatted for her troubles and decided to take it out on Sophie, who is normally so mellow that she'll happily submit rather than tangle. But today Wonderdog had had ENOUGH of Small Evil Dog's attitude and decided to give it back.

That's when things got ugly and I had to try to break it up. It's hard to pull apart two dogs who are going at it, and although our two play fight a lot, I've never seen them this angry. I ended up picking up Small Evil Dog, but Sophie was still attached by the jaws, and in a contorted position trying to lift sixty-five pounds of dogflesh-gone-mad, my back and shoulders are now paying the price. By halfway through my trail run this afternoon, my shoulders had climbed up to my ears and I had the approximate gait of Igor. Of course, this would also be the day when I promised Asa I would take her to the gym to play raquetball (following my own advice to keep the kids active in the winter). Thank god for the hot tub at the gym or I never would've survived.

This week I'm making hubby keep his word about that remote-controlled shock collar...