We own a few kitchen knives which are extremely sharp. These utensils were designed with one purpose: Get the job done and do it well. Whatever their task, they never disappoint!! One afternoon, I was serving Rose some thin cheddar cheese slices. My, how that mongrel loves this treat!! Why not use our rugged-edged "cheese knife"? So there I was, feeding Rose a tasty snack, when suddenly, with little warning, my left hand middle finger got in its way!! Next thing I saw? Blood gushing out!! Oh, no!! I snatched a clean washcloth from the unfolded towels, applied pressure, held that hand above my heart.... Then I looked at it. This industrious little "cheese knife" had chopped quite a gash!! I panicked. On first glance, it appeared that I had nearly cut the tip of my finger off!! Which, of course is not at all true!! It was simply my deepest self-inflicted incision on record and I didn't even need stitches!! Two nights later, I wrongly decided that I could sleep sans any Band-Aids. It had not bled much further, after all.... That same night, Rose needed to pooh and urinate. Unfortunately, she lacks the training of awaking me when nature calls. My canine will typically arise, sometimes shake, and walk off!! Her destination? Always our sliding glass door first, which leads to outside. Then the great room carpet!! I was jolted awake at an ungodly hour by the sound of Rose "digging" her pillow. Uh, oh. Does that mean....? I did not want to know. But up from my bed I stood. Immediately, I noticed something. Red. All over my pajama pants, T-shirt and sheets. It literally resembled that of a scene from some horror film!! Sure enough, fresh flowing blood gushed from the injury!! Oh well. I will treat that later. First, I needed to inspect my Mongrel-Hound's potential "accident"!! I stepped foot into our great room. There, lying upon the carpet, was a pile of brown pooh. And this small wet spot. Still bleeding, I snatched a plastic baggie to scoop up the smelling pile. From my bedroom, I heard "paw" steps. Rose stood in the doorway, staring at me, her face sorry. There were three drops of blood upon our kitchen floor. So I scowled at her!! Why? Because it was far too early and I was half awake? Frustration? For if only I had not slept through my baby needing me this would not have occurred? Was it a "guilt trip"? After all, Rose had the accident.... She needed to understand that I disapproved? Who knows. Still bleeding, I found our cleaner and disinfected the locations. Then, I tended to my wound. Cleansed it, applied pressure. Quickly wrapped a Band-Aid around the finger. I returned to my blood-stained sheets, did not change, and refused verbal or physical contact with Rose. After all, she had an accident.... The following morning, everything was forgiven. It was no longer an ungodly hour. I had slept a fair eight hours, despite our interruption!! Besides, "when you gotta go, you gotta go".... Right? Rose was not in the wrong entirely!! On a positive note, we washed my sheets, plus I now have this scar which reminds me constantly of God's healing touch!!