White Dog said, "there were only three possibilities, momma. Where did the blood come from?"
First, I looked around for feathers or "parts" that would indicate that My Darkest White Dog had just enjoyed a forbidden snack. Nope. (One possibility ruled out, White Dog).
Next, I shifted and felt along my leg and arm to make sure that somehow it was not ME leaking from a scrape or wound. I laughed at my sense of relief that I was not bleeding; mostly because I could not remember an event that might have assigned ownership of the spots to me. (Possibility Two ruled out).
I reached over playfully and wrapped and am around Zsofia. Then I pulled her closer and tightened my grip as I pressed on her paws. I was looking for a cut between her toes or on the pad of a foot. There were none and Zso struggled to break free.
"Not yet,Sweet One. We must find out when the blood came from." I looked in her ears. "Wow, we ought to clean these," I told her, "but not right now."
Zsofia turned her head to sing her objections to me and I saw a red smear on her lip. Getting her head tilted so my finger could lift her lips to see teeth and gums was not an easy task, especially since her squealing of torture brough Bailey and Opal rushing in to defend her.
No teeth were missing or broken. Gums were pink and healthy. But inside of her right cheek my finger rubbed against fresh blood. I went into soothing momma mode. "Poor Baby Girl. Did you somehow manage to bite your cheek or poke it when you were out in the yard chewing sticks? The best cure, I think, is a good long drink of fresh water."
"Well, White Dog," I told her, "you were right. A minor injury that I will recheck at treat time before bed; Zsofia won't even know I am checking then.