A week ago, the masked heeler starts limping after flying, blindly, off the front steps as she always does, and crash landing on the hard packed snow heaped up in the yard. Definitely favoring her right hind leg.

So, Thursday, to the vet we go.

Her bones and joints are okay, but the hip is sore. Probably a little overextended, and arthritic (she was run over, you know). And with pills and rest, by Friday she's better.

By Saturday and Sunday, I'm asking myself, 'why did we take this dog to the vet?'

You'd never know which leg was hurt.

Sunday evening, without thinking, the wife calls the heelers for their bedtime "out". I make a desperate lunge across the bed and manage to barely catch the masked heeler before she takes a flying leap off the bed to hurt herself.

I catch her by only her sore, right hind leg.

She yips a little.

And limps a little.

Monday morning, remembering her mistake the night before, the wife carefully carries the masked heeler down the front stairs for their morning "out".

And slips on ice, dropping the heeler on the concrete.

On her right rear leg.

She yips aloud.

And limps a lot.

All day, she limps a lot. Her lower leg is visibly swollen.

Today, to the vet she goes again.

"How's she doing?" the vet kindly asks as she enters the examination room.

Really good, I answer.

And really bad.

I explain the rapid weekend recovery. And the Sunday and Monday accidents. Basically, if we'd just left the dog alone, she'd be fine right now.

As it is, after x-rays, we know she has a sprained ankle.

Because we tried to make her be careful.

And now, she has to.