It's been 3 days, 16 hours and 54 minutes since I hurt my foot.
I know this because I've been counting.
I've been counting because I've been stuck inside this whole entire time, bored out of my mind. And because I just overheard my human say something about having to restrict my activity for AT LEAST a week. Maybe longer.
If you ask me, this is a really dumb idea. I have three other perfectly good feet and that's really all I need. My gimpy foot hasn't slowed me down one bit. I'll humor the ice packs, baby aspirin and homeo-pathetic jelly, but please. Please don't take away my freedom!
The only good part about all this is something called a "get well present". My friend Jack the Labrador sent his human over with a bag of chew toys to "help my recovery". Not really sure how chewing on stuff is going to help my foot heal, but I'll go along with it. This new tennis-ball-stick-thingy on a rope is really cool.
Even if I can only use it indoors.