Tag: Wee Dog

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Wounded Old

If you know Señora or if you are one of the 3.141592 dedicated readers of my blog, you know that Señora has been  through two major back surgeries and still struggles with back problems.

I injured my back when I worked in a warehouse in my early 20s.  I have had to deal with back problems, previously more off than on, as the result of a prolapsed disc stemming from that injury.  As I have ceased to be young, this back problem has become more on than off.  It has gotten to the point that I had to give up walking the golf course.  Even with a push or pull cart my back will not let get through a round of golf, walking.  Even with a riding cart, it is hard for me to play two days in a row. Gawd forbid, there comes a day when I have to give up golf completely.

Princess Lily, aka Tater Tot, aka Fuzzy Butt, aka The Wee Dog, is a quarter dachshund.  This breed is famous for their back issues.  The Wee Dog, who is 10, is no exception, and she is on medicine, again off and on, to control her pain from this.

We are a household of back problems.

I bring this up because the other night when I had to get up in the middle of the night (if you are old enough you will understand), I did what I always have to do when first getting out of bed.  I stood there a minute to let my back do what feels like to me, stabilize. All this prompted Señora to say, as I then hobbled my way to the johnny, “we are a household of the Wounded Old.”

And so it is going.

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Pobrecita

Robin would not let me take a picture, but she looks like the victim of spousal abuse!  The reality is that is not my style, and I am not near brave enough to do such a horrible thing.  I am  convinced she would make Lorena Bobbitt look like an angel.

We had her son’s dog, Osho for a  few days.  Osho is absolutely convinced that my conjunction-function in life is to take him on walks.  Of course, if I take him I cannot leave The Wee Dog behind.  All of which is fine, but two dogs on leashes can be a bit of a chore.  They are generally pretty good walking together, but occasionally they will each discover odors needing investigation that are in opposite directions.  I end up feeling like the proverbial wishbone.

Normally, Osho wants to go around dark-thirty, just after we feed him.  Monday was a nice day so I thought I would do it earlier, as it was warm and sunny.  I asked Robin if she would like to tag along, both for her company and so we could split the two dogs between us.

All was fine until we started to enter the garage.  Robin saw what was left of a decorative gourd in the garden she could not leave, so she handed me Lily’s leash.  I took it, and was promptly entangled with both dogs.  I managed to get Lily unwrapped who decided she had to head for the door leading from the garage to the kitchen immediately.   Unfortunately, Robin was headed  towards the trash can just beside that door in the garage.  Before I could act or say anything, Robin tripped over Lily’s leash.  I am not sure I ever saw anyone fall quite so fast – despite what Galileo espoused.  She had no time to put her hands in front, partly because she was carrying the gourd.  She landed directly on her nose, skinning her knees.  All I could think of was her two back surgeries.  She was obviously very shook up.  Just to be on the safe side we went to urgent care.  She  was basically fine, but she has been very sore for a couple days.   I was fully expecting a raccoon mask that is so common when the nose receives such a blow.  Her nose is bruised and her left eye looks like mine after one of my karate matches (back in the day).

We are both thankful that is was not worse.

And so it goes.

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Pockets

I took The Wee Dog, Princess Lily, for a stroll tonight a little after dark-thirty. Being the middle of September, the evenings are beginning to get a little nippy, so  I grabbed a light jacket that I had not had on in a while.  As Lily and I were strolling down the sidewalk I stuck both my hands in the pockets of the jacket and discovered some items there in.  In the right pocket was the small plastic bag familiar to all urban dog owners, colloquially referred to as poop bags.  In the left pocket I found a paper mask that has become so fashionable and controversial during this pandemic.  As is my wont, I begin to reflect on these items as I walked.

The poop bag was a reminder to me to never say never, as I had more than once, emphatically stated that I would never pick up dog feces, using it as one of my arguments as why we did not need a dog.  However, if you have a dog in an urban / suburban environment it is only good manners to clean up your dog’s doings. When I was still working Continue reading “Pockets”

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True Confessions

I have a couple of confessions to make.  The first one is that La Señora and I are in a ménage à chienne.  Right about now I can hear a few of y’all going, “huuu-UH.” I do not think I would be amiss in believing that most folks pass the age of puberty are familiar with the phrase ménage à trios.  It is a French term for a household of three that we have co-opted and modified to be a synonym for a threesome.  Now hearken back to your high school French, in that language the word for dog is chien or in the case of a female dog, chienne. Putting it all together we have… Continue reading “True Confessions”

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Rev. Joe’s Random Thought #6,275

yeah I know you did not ask!

The Wee Dog has a tendency to sleep on the foot of our bed, usually very close to my feet. Occasionally she will pop herself between the snoozing Señora Weinhaus and myself.  In the winter time it is not uncommon for her to weasel her way under the covers to the foot of the bed.  It is a mystery to me as why, in 7 years, she has not been kicked or turned into a pancake.

Last night she was at the foot of the bed on top of the covers.  I must have kicked the covers off my feet as I was awakened around 3 in the morning by the Wee Dog licking my ankles. At first I thought Senora had developed a foot fetish, then I realized it was Lily.  She must have become disoriented in the night and could not find her derriere and my ankles seemed the next best thing.

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The Parable of the Wee Dog

The Wee Dog

The Wee Dog is a terrier mix.  Or as I am fond of saying, “part terrier and part mama got out.” I call her the Wee Dog because she weighs in at a whopping 14 or 15 pounds.  However, most of it is muscle with the rest some very wild, wiry black and white fur.  The fur over her eyes has a tendency to grow and droop over those organs. The Wee Dog’s mother aka Robin works diligently to keep this area trimmed as well as the rest of the wilderness that is her coat.  For whatever reason through my anthropomorphizing eyes the Wee Dog always looks very worried.

Being a rescue dog the Wee Dog has some issues, most of which she has grown out over the last year or so. Continue reading “The Parable of the Wee Dog”

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Things That Go Bump in the Night

The Wee Dog has developed a habit of coming on-board the bed in the middle of the night. When she does this she either snuggles in between Robin and I, or she tries to clean my face. The first I do not mind; the second I am desperately trying to redirect.

Lily stands maybe 14 inches at the shoulder. Our bed stands 32 inches above the deck. This means the critter must get a running start to jump 2 ½ times her height, and she can only do it on my side of the bed. On a good leap she just barely clears, and it is usually the thump of her legs hitting the side of the bed that awakens me. Occasionally she misses and Continue reading “Things That Go Bump in the Night”

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Bitch Slapped by Wee Dog

lilyRobin recently added a member to our family, the Wee Dog aka Lily. I’m not a big pet person. Not because I do not like cats and dogs, but I just do not find the work and responsibility associated with them being outweighed by benefits gained. Robin is not of my opinion.

The Wee Dog is a rescue dog and as such came with a set of baggage and benefits. One of the benefits was that she was already house trained. Since we have had her there have only been a few “accidents”, and always late at night. To prevent such re-occurrences Robin shuts the Wee Dog up with us in our bedroom at night. Robin does not seem to mind what would be to me an onerous chore. She is quite willing to get up in the middle of night to let Lily out to do her business.

Now the Wee Dog does not bark to notify us of her need, she licks. She has a dog bed she sleeps in for the most part, but when she needs to go out she jumps up in bed with us. She almost always does so on my side. I theorize that she does this because our bed is high and she is short. On my side she can get a bit of a running start to make the leap. For some reason of late she has started licking on me which does not make sense as I never take her out in the middle of the night. I really do not like a dog licking me, especially when it is to wake me up. After a short period of time she gives up and starts to work on Robin.

She did this routine the other night, but the way the Wee Dog situated herself to attack Robin with her tongue left her tail in my face. The Wee Dog is an enthusiastic being, and she is particularly enthusiastic when she is licking one of her humans. Like all dogs this enthusiasm plays out via her tail which she was wagging vigorously. However, with my face where her tail was, she was bitch slapping me with each and every wag of her tail. That night I did expedite the situation by nudging Robin.