The dam is holding, thank goodness; we now have a sizeable lake, which is to say, a canine swimming pool (once it has settled a bit we may even swim in it ourselves). But the banks continue to be muddy primeval ooze. Yesterday afternoon as the dogs rushed in after a stick, Miss Best Friend contrived to stand, or so we assume, on a shard of broken glass buried in the mud, and got a nasty cut in her pad. Well, labradors are seldom backward about sharing their feelings. Whine, shiver, whimper, yelp, hold up poor paw pathetically, etc. etc. She was showered with dog-treats, it didn’t bleed much, and after a while she curled up and went to sleep quite happily. But later on when she got up, she clearly couldn’t put her weight on it at all. Ho for the VET. It turned out to be small but very deep — and the vet has bandaged it up. She’s fine now, bouncing back nicely, but of course the bandage is a terrific dodge for extracting sympathy, best expressed in canine circles by dog treats, bits of cheese, shortbread, and bowls to lick out. We conclude that from Miss BF’s point of view, since she has forgotten all about her foot being really sore, it was all rather worth it.