That adorable pug whose face I posted on my blog a few days ago is in reality a very mischievous little creature.

Since he tends to chew up or otherwise destroy whatever he manages to find, he isn't allowed to roam the house on his own. He is the kind of dog that leaves dents on doors with his claws, scratches up and removes floor tiles, and chews up chair legs, leaving us with no other choice than to limit where he can go.

Yesterday, he managed to go somewhere he did not belong, so I went after him, trying to catch him. He was running around in circles and up and down the stairs, hyper as only he knows how to be. I caught up to him on the staircase to the second floor, and he paused for a minute. Lunging forward, I tried to grab either him or his collar. At the very last second, he jumped out of the way and I lost my balance, smashing my hand into the stairs. I sat down on the staircase in shock and extreme pain, feeling as though four of my fingers were broken.

Eventually, I bribed the little miscreant with some dog treats and got him to follow me.

My fingers were still hurting, but within fifteen minutes, I narrowed the pain down to one finger on my right hand. That finger continued to hurt for the rest of the evening and was unable to move, and when I woke up today and realized that it still hurt when I tried moving it, I decided to go to the doctor.

My father called to schedule an appointment, and since I did not want to miss a day of school, we requested an appointment for 1 p.m. today. School ends at 12:30 p.m. on Fridays for me, so it would work out perfectly. The secretary muttered something along the lines of, "Who sends their kid to school when there is an emergency?"

So we went to the doctor, got stuck in traffic on the way, dealt with crazy drivers as well as pedestrians crossing on a red light in the middle of the street, and waited for nearly two hours in the waiting room.

The good news is that the x-rays showed no fractures in the bone. The bad news is that the finger is sprained, swollen, and can hurt for up to six weeks. I can't hold a pen properly so I don't know how I will manage to take notes in class or write in the next few weeks, but at least I can still type.

The doctor's advice: "Take it easy. No cooking, no cleaning, just shopping."

So here I am, taking it easy.

But wouldn't it have been a great story if my dog really had been the cause of a broken finger?