A few years ago Zeke had a summer where he cut his feet twice. Each time it was on a hunk of glass shattered in a ditch by some littering fool. One slice was over a quarter inch deep in a paw pad. A couple of stitches and too much time away from his loves (frisbee, swimming, walking) finally healed it. Before he could really get back to being a happy dog he hit another shard and almost sliced off a dew claw. Bad summer.

I walk barefoot all of the time. Ok, not quite as much as Zeke, but probably eighty percent of the time during summer. So it probably comes as no surprise that I sliced my foot open this weekend on a chunk of glass. I was keeping to the roads, but a photogenic sunset caught my attention and I popped into the ditch to frame a photo. Five stitches. Gusher. Two blocks of bloody footprints leading back to the house. It didn't even hurt until the next day.

Damn litterers. I've considered putting a large barrel alongside the road with a sign suggesting they drop their empties off instead of chucking them into a ditch.

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