Well, I’m back in town. Detroit Snappenbarker Mendoza who doesn’t show up for a year, then is writing 2 weeks in a row. But here I am, story in toe. (No, I did not misspell that.)

Last time I was ranting about being chewed out. You won’t believe what got chewed up this round. Yep- me! A much lesser dog wouldn’t have survived-but here I am. Regardless- hide your eyes because it was a terrible, horrible fight. Here’s the facts:

The Harvest Monster comes to call this time of year. I can always sense it’s arrival. My human family walks a little faster. They are gone a lot more, but when they are around, they talk a little louder and laugh a little more. This Harvest Monster is not something to be feared, only respected. And managed within an inch of its life. That’s the part where I shine.

“Get ready” I told my assistant Rolo “it’s show time this week.”

And it was. I rode down the road on the tractor with KH carefully planning my day.

Things went well, the first day of Paradise Lane Chopping Season.

The other dogs rode with the cart operators some, but not me. I was in charge of air traffic control in at the trench, and I manned the control tower like someone’s life depended on it.

Day 2 went equally as smoothly. Finally I decided I just had to get to the field, the trench was filling up and there was decisions to be made with what to do with the rest of the corn (PTL for this problem!) so I ran out to check the chopping progress.

What happened next I will never tell. But the Farmer was riding across the open field on his trusty four wheeler when I met him with a feeble salute. He stopped and I climbed on his fourwheeler before he knew what happened. “Medic” I mumbled “I need a medic”

There’s a wide range of guesses as to what happened to me. In short- My foot looked like it got in a losing fight with a meat grinder. Basically I’ll give you all of them and you can go with whichever logic you like best :

The Farmers guess: that I was in the standing corn and forgot that the chopper ate 10 rows at a time instead of 8. And somehow those vicious knives on the head managed to mangle 2 of my toes. (KH was running the cutter and she does not like this option, and can argue it away in about 5 seconds) I am tough as nails- maybe I was just too much for that ol beast to munch on.

Mr Good’s version: that I was going for a pedicure and got trimmed a little closely. (Ummm Hello- does he really think I’m that high maintenance?)

The Farmer’s Daughters ideas: maybe a trap or a sharp corn stalk or something caught my poor toes as I rushed past and yanked the pad off… (what kind of a dunce would blunder into a trap? And are freshly chopped corn stubble really a lethal weapon?)

But like I said- I will never tell.

In the end EMT Em wrapped my wounded paw up and held me close as KH drove the getaway vehicle to Ashby Vet Clinic where a very nice man gave me the opportunity to sleep really soundly while they stitched me up.

I’ve got a beautiful purple bandage that’s driving my crazy- but hey I’ll take the Purple Heart I definitely earned.

So anyhow- message me if you need an address to send get well soon cards, steak, balloons, steak, roses or steak. I’m going to need some cheering up while I wait this one out.

Farm Manager, currently on sick leave,

Detroit Snappenbarker Mendoza