Gimpy, the dog

Here's an amusing dog story for you, although I wasn't amused at the time.

My roommate is still gone so I'm in charge of the dog, Moose. This morning, I slept in. I let him out to pee so he wouldn't have to wait for me to get dressed. The thermometer said it was -35 F so I was waiting at the door for him to come back. Normally, he goes out, does his business, and comes right back. Sometimes he likes to snarf around, but I figured he'd be quick since it was cold out.

I couldn't see what he was doing since the outside light on that side isn't working. But I was getting impatient. He was taking forever. What was he doing out there? I had just opened the door to call him when I saw him come limping over. His head was hanging and he was almost dragging himself. At first glance, I thought he'd been set upon by wolves! I didn't think he'd be able to pull himself up the stairs. I would have leapt out to grab him (he looked that pathetic), but I was in bare feet. He made it into the house, one hind leg in the air. And he was whining!

Now, Moose can be a cry baby. Before he realized that he was not getting his furry butt on my bed, he used to whine. But first he would beg silently with his tail flapping. It would take a while for him to whine. I'd never heard him cry from pain.

What was wrong with him?!?! I shoved him over so I could grab the foot. Did he step on something? Moose rolled to his side, collapsed in a heap. He whined and tried to lick his foot. His front feet curled up like a chipmunk as I poked at his back toes. Nothing. No blood. No wound. Just some ice between the pads.

His foot was cold.

Why didn't he come in before his foot got cold? I don't know, but obviously I need to be the brain for both of us.