(I missed going into Toronto Animal Services South this past weekend which means I've got no new photos of dogs to upload so instead I'm going to tell you about what Smitten did last week.)

Elizabeth and Smitten are already at the front door and I'm still putting on Rocky's jacket. Elizabeth opens the door. Without looking up, I hear a scramble and then Elizabeth yelling, "Smitten!" and then something else more guttural.

I look up and see the tail end of Smitten round the end of our fence, bolting into the neighbour's yard. Elizabeth chases after her.

I finish dressing Rocky and step outside with him. Elizabeth has Smitten by this point and comes back over.

"Look what Smitten did," Elizabeth says and she shows me the ring finger on her left hand. It's bent halfway up the first joint at a weird angle. "She broke my finger."

You know that latest Rambo movie that came out a couple of years ago? I watched it. Didn't flinch once at the slop buckets of on-screen carnage but show me a real life injury and I get woozy. I look at Elizabeth's busted finger. Now that's quite gross, I think. I try not to faint.

"What happened?" I ask.

"That stupid cat was on our porch and Smitten took off after it. The leash caught my finger," Elizabeth explains somewhat calmly. I don't understand why Elizabeth isn't screaming in pain. I'm pretty sure that's what I'd be doing.

One problem with having a ring finger snapped into an odd, distorted angle is that it becomes impossible to take the rings off. There are three of them. By the time we get to the hospital, they are constricted around Elizabeth's now ultra swollen finger like string tied between two links of sausage.

The receptionist suggests that Elizabeth try to take the rings off. Camel through the eye of a needle, I think but Elizabeth still tries. The receptionist gives her a tube of polysporin for lubricant and I slather it on the finger. Elizabeth starts working at the first ring.

"Is it budging?" I ask.

"I think so," she says.

She's really tugging at it, twisting it around, trying to squeeze the swelling and the broken bone through it. I can't look anymore. A few minutes later, it's apparent the ring isn't going anywhere.

As we sit in the hallway waiting, the pain really starts to kick in. A nurse says she'll bring by some pain killers but she doesn't. I walk around the hospital looking for some ice. Someone tells me the ice machine is around the corner. I go around the corner and I'm told the ice machine is broken. I ask for a plastic bag. I go outside and fill it with snow. I bring it back to Elizabeth and she wraps it around her finger. There's some relief.

Later, various doctors and nurses tell Elizabeth things like, "Wow, that looks painful," and "That's really going to hurt to get those rings off."

At some point, a couple of hours later, Elizabeth is brought into a room by a nurse. The nurse closes the door. I don't hear anything for a few minutes and then I hear an electric whirring sound. I hear it off and on for the next 45 minutes. Finally, Elizabeth comes out of the room. She shows me the remains of the rings.

"The wedding ring was especially difficult," she says.

Another wait and finally a doctor sees Elizabeth, puts a splint around the finger. She has to phone back in the morning and make an appointment with a plastic surgeon who will do the final set for the bones. Who knew that's what plastic surgeons do.

We get home and Smitten and Rocky greet us at the door.

"This is your fault," Elizabeth says to Smitten but it doesn't sound like she means it.