legless

Dream. "My" white shepherd Georgia Brown and my boyfriend/border collie Boo are lying in the living room at 93 Grattan Street but my apartment looks nothing like it should. The day is overcast. Georgia and Boo are poking noses into each other's fur. They're roughhousing a bit, passing a ball back and forth. Georgia lunges for the ball and accidentally bites down onto Boo's hind leg. It snaps off like a dry twig and Boo lets out a yelp. I hurry to pick up his leg, which is about as big as Lincoln log and is bloodless except for a circle of red buried underneath black fur. Boo is crying but not bleeding. I know I can save his leg if I can find a surgeon, so I place the leg on the kitchen table so Georgia won't eat it and I run out the door looking for a veteranarian. There's a parade or riot passing by outside, or maybe it's just Penn Station at rush hour, but I'm being jostled and disoriented by a people. I need a surgeon! I keep shouting, but I'm lost in the crowd. Perhaps half an hour, an hour, several hours pass. I worry about leaving Boo's wound unsutured but I can't think of what else to do. Finally, I give up and return to the apartment. A team of surgeons in green scrubs are gathered around the kitchen table, upon which Boo lies panting. I look to his leg and see that it has been stitched back with big caricaturized white loops. It's comical but also effective, and Boo looks up at me with his optimistic border collie stare. I'm so happy he's restored. I ask the surgeons what happened. One of them removes his surgical mask and says, "Well, we just couldn't wait any longer." I know Boo will be good as new in a couple weeks, ready to play fetch again.

I don't know if watching this video had anything to do with my dream: http://www.break.com/index/2legdog4.html