"Mommy, Henry is a dog."

Yes. Yes he is.

Henry is one of my mom's two dogs. He is a mutt. The vet's office has officially classified him as a "coon hound mix." He's about seven years old. I"m not sure what is in the rest of the mix, but judging by his usual demeanor I would bet it's espresso.

Anyway, Henry recently hurt one of his back paws. My brother took him to the vet today for x-rays and all that. Paw's not broken but the tendon is strained. The vet had to sedate him for testing, so he's still a little dopey from all the medicine.

Allyson, as is her way, is trying to comfort him: "Oh, Henry. Poor baby dog. Your leg hurts. But you'll get over it." And now she's trying to keep Frances (the other dog, an 11-year-old Brittany spaniel and about as threatening as a newly born kitten) away from him. "FRAN! Henry is hurt. You stay away, you'll scare him."

I'm not sure which dog I feel more sorry for right now.