The other day Edison and Bram were happily munching their lunches in the kitchen and I was buzzing about doing little chores and after having had my back to them for a few minutes turned around to find Edison limping horribly out of the kitchen and into the foyer. I rushed out after him as he hobbled away with a look of utter anguish on his tiny face, his right front leg held out away from his body stiffly and at a very odd angle. I was instantly terrified, yet couldn't figure out how he had hurt himself so badly and so quickly, when all he was doing was quietly eating. The look on his face was heartbreaking.
I gently picked him up and touched his leg. He didn't cry out, yet still held it stiffly away from his body. I couldn't figure out what could possibly be wrong and with each passing second was losing years off of my life from the terror of his obviously seriously damaged leg. He continued to watch me with that sad little face and as I felt his leg from body to toes I discovered a large chunk of kibbles, wet and sticky with canned food, stuck halfway down his leg. As soon as I picked it off of him, he squirmed to get down and immediately ran back to his bowl to finish his lunch before Bram did it for him.
All this because he was dirty? A normal dog would have bent over and eaten the juicy morsel right from their own leg, but not Edison. My dog is clearly horrified at the thought of having something icky on him and he continued to freak out until it was removed. Talk about OCD. If he had just stood still for a moment Bram would have happily eaten the offending bit of lunch right off of his leg. And with that I could have been saved some serious anxiety. And everyone would be happy. Crazy, but happy.