Moi?!

.Here is a photo of Daisy, an impromptu rescue dog who helps run off some of Brou's limitless energy supply. Isn't she just the sweetest thing, lying there innocently with her paws crossed in such a lady-like manner? That dog might just be the death of me however.

She came home with Mark one day last summer after one of the vet's staff e-mailed us a charming, irresistible photo. This dog had spent it's life confined to a small backyard run with no visible signs of interest or affection from the family. The staffer had seen the lollipop symbols on our foreheads and the lavish concern we had expressed for Brou and made her move. Yep, the sucker assessment was spot on. But, like all dogs with that sort of unsocialized history, she came to us 'with issues'. Some bloody irritating ones, in fact, for someone as old fartish and jaded as I.

She will NOT ride in a truck. If you do get hold of her (fat chance) and place her in a truck, you will be cleaning up anxiety barf for the next week. BUT! She loves to follow them down the road, absolutely deaf to your calls to return. Here in heavy coyote pack country, having a dog wander away from camp is not a good idea. We have heard stories from Slim and the locals about how the coyotes will send in one member to play 'come hither, come play with me' to lure a dog away deep into the sage. The rest of the pack will be waiting over the next rise to tear them up. They don't call coyotes wily for nothing. We both like coyotes and don't want to lose that appreciation with a grisly loss of one of our own canines. Our charming neighbor shoots them on sight. Slim, however, shares our view that they are more of a natural eco-balancing benefit in the long run and leaves them alone.

Well, Slim stopped by with his usual truckload of cattle dogs on Tuesday morning to pick up some papers. When he left, I remembered that Daisy was outside and more than likely inclined to chase him all the way out to the main road since he always drives at a relaxed loping pace. Amazingly, she returned to my call long enough that I got hold of her collar and Slim headed down the road. But with her attention still riveted on Slim's truck, I knew that I had to bring her inside for the next twenty minutes. Her freedom any time sooner would have her sniffing the tire tracks like a bloodhound and taking off after it.

I was bent over at a right angle with my hand on her collar and she walked back with me until we reached the steps to the Rat. Social-working didn't do any good so I finally gave a tug on her collar. Without warning, she sprang up the stairs with me still hunched over but barely keeping my footing. Despite this impressive inertia suddenly sprung into action, she decided to cross in front of me and stop dead. I knew there was a severe owie moment heading my way.

Down I went. From Daisy's scale and perspective, she was seeing Babe the Blue Ox felled and heading her way and wisely leaped two foot forward - the limit imposed by my hand still stuck around her collar. My knees hit the deck so hard that I thought I might crash right through the 2x4s. Remember, this is all now happening at the speed of light or at least at the speed of terminal velocity. She had yanked my arm to the left across my chest and I landed on top of her; my right bosom, my right arm and her cement head doing a severe compression into the deck. I will not ask you to guess what gave in that process.

I rarely cry any more but this moment seemed most warranted. My hand was still snagged in Daisy's collar with everything in between there and my shoulder now twisted into Exorcist quality angles and my vision dissolved into an alternative universe of gray with flashing red and yellow supernovas of pain, undoubtedly coming from the discum-BOOB-eration which I had just experienced - forget the knees! My screeches of agony finally brought Mark to the window of the Rat and he asked what he might do to help. "G ... get th ... this ... d-a-w-g inside, pleeeeeeeze??!!!"

I eventually followed behind them and collapsed into my wing chair, still emitting occasional moans and shrieks from the pain leaping out from the right side of my chest. Timing, as always, decided that my brother should make his annual phone call. "Hey, so how's it going?" I stared off at the ceiling for a moment, still bridled with some mild residue of decorum but, between gasps, finally replied "I just found out what it is like for a gentleman to receive a groin kick to the family jewels."

I was concerned that I had cracked a rib but realized that a special trip into town would not be physically pleasant and could only confirm a cracked rib for which there is no suitable treatment anyway but certainly create a pricey, uninsured medical bill. So far, so good ... the pain is finally letting up to a reasonable degree. Oh Daisy ... I don't know if I can handle a few more of those incidents from dogs with issues. But it did seem in keeping with the traditional stream of holiday events.
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Humor of the day: (from FatHairy)
After Buck's quick reply comment, I just had to add this one. It's is only marginally off-color but exemplifies one universal area in which you can expect most men's full empathy:

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The pastor asked if anyone in the congregation would like to express praise for answered prayers.

A lady stood and walked to the podium. "I have a praise for our Lord. Two months ago my husband, Jim, had a terrible bicycle wreck and his scrotum was completely crushed. The pain was excruciating and the doctors didn't know if they could help him."

You could hear an audible gasp from the men in the congregation as they imagined the pain that poor Jim experienced. She continued, "Jim was unable to hold me or the children and every move caused him terrible pain. We prayed as the doctors performed a delicate operation. They were able to piece together the crushed remnants of Jim's scrotum and wrap wire around it to hold it in place."

Again, the men in the congregation squirmed uncomfortably as they imagined the horrible surgery performed on Jim.

She continued, "Now, Jim is out of the hospital and the doctor's say, with time, his scrotum should recover completely."

All the men sighed with relief. The pastor rose and tentatively asked if any one else had anything to say. In the dead silence you could hear only footsteps as a man rose and walked to the podium.

He said, "I'm Jim and I want to tell my wife, ONCE AGAIN, the word is sternum, STER-NUM!"
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