Today, we played with Pixie,
Dave and his friends played some soccer,
and Dave wound up here: 
But when the Urgent Care couldn't help us, we had to go to the ER. The upside was Dave got a wheelchair and a cool gadget to buzz him when his room was ready.
We enjoyed this sign on the wall.
Dave was diagnosed with a ruptured Achilles tendon.
He was fitted with a splint/cast and a super-snazzy knitted toe-warmer. 
He was told to see the specialist on Tuesday to discuss surgery options and is not to put an ounce of weight on his foot before then. Additionally, he was strongly advised against showering before then, lest his cast get wet. Even though he came straight from his sweaty soccer game. We got some Vicadin and crutches and were on our way home six hours later. Dave spent the remainder of the evening fitfully switching from one uncomfortable position to the next on the couch in his sleep.
Though when he hobbled through the door with his crutches Pixie initially believed he was a vicious attacker sent to murder her family and thus promptly barked hysterically at him for half an hour, once she realized it was him and and he was hurt, she didn't leave his side all night.
Poor Dave!
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