A Public Service Announcement

A Public Service Announcement

I thought it might be a good idea to inform you, my adoring public, that I have been undergoing some health issues lately, which have kept me away from the blog.

I have been experiencing problems with my back, which (according to Dr. Todd) may or may not be indicative of a more serious problem which may or may not require surgical intervention, and/or may or may not result in the loss of use in my haunch region.  Honestly, Dr. Todd is just  FONT of helpful and specific information.

Basically, what happened was this:  I tried to alert Mama Dog that I was ready to go out for my morning constitution before breakfast.  As I was gesticulating (because she is quite deaf to my cries of hunger in the morning, it seems) I wrenched a tender spot in my back, causing pain and temporary spasm in the muscular tissue of my lower half.  She completely freaked out, called the vet and took away all things good and fun in my life.

I was immediately put to bed and given medicinal cheese.  That part isn’t so terrible.  She rubbed some smelly essential oils on my feet and my back.  I would never tell her this, but the oils and the massage helped with the pain … but the smell was still very weird.  Bachmann mentioned the odor repeatedly.  Every time I had to go outside to conduct *business* – she or Daddy Dog carried me.  And watched me.  Rude.  And this turned out not to be some ‘one day only’ type of thing …

It’s been a few weeks and I’m still not allowed to do anything I like to do.  No jumping on the furniture — even when the sun is beaming in on the couch and I’m in desperate need of recharging.  No going out on the back porch … unless someone carries me.  No working with my Companions unless being closely supervised (ie. watched like a hawk) by Mama Dog, Daddy Dog, or one of the Children.  It’s so limiting.

I continue to get the medicinal cheese, which is good, though very small in dosage.  And they continue to apply the stinky oils to my feet daily, which Bachmann continues to complain about.  And apparently, I’m not a *cooperative* little dog, because now, they have started blocking my access to furniture completely with what they refer to as “baby rails.”  Honestly, I jumped onto my favorite perch the other morning and you would have thought I sprouted horns and a forked tail … Mama and Daddy Dog raced into the family room and removed me from my spot, scolded me and next thing I know – BAM! – blockades on all the furniture.

They never leave me alone now, either.  I mean, I am supervised all the time.  If someone has to leave the house, they make sure someone is left at home to monitor my activity.  (Which is part of the reason I’ve been offline so long … how am I supposed to get any quality work done with people watching me all the time?!)  If Mama and Daddy Dog both have to go out, they leave Big Kid home.  He’s not so bad, I guess … I can usually get him to lift me onto the couch where he sits watching television or playing one of his ‘games’.   Still, I miss my privacy a great deal.

I’ve been told I am a good dog.  I’ve been told I’m so sweet and precious and that everyone loves me.  But I’ll be honest … it feels very much like they want Georgie to suffer from boredom and lack of activity.  I smell Dr. Todd’s quackery all over this.  Especially since this whole *treatment* thing has also started to involve fewer treats, reduced food portions and an overall *weight loss protocol* that is supposed to reduce the stress on my spine.  Uh huh … Dr. Todd and his hatred of the Irish-Viking Dachshund continues …

Now … Mama Dog claims this is a temporary situation.  She says I am going to be traveling to the university veterinary college where I will undergo an evaluation by a neurologist, and possibly a CT scan and second examination by an orthopedic surgeon.  She says this will lead to me being able to resume my normal activities.  She says a lot of stuff while she’s barricading me from my favorite places to climb and blocking me from the back porch steps and carting me in and out of the house to go pee, which is just humiliating.  Most of what she says is “for my own good,” and I’m getting pretty tired of hearing that crap.  All this ‘for my own good’ business is leaving me … disgruntled.

So. There you have it.  The sad tale of my existence these days.  Confined to ground level, monitored every minute and prohibited from fun and excitement.  The only thing I have going for me these days is that I get to ‘sleep out’ at night and am no longer confined in my crate.  But the couch is still off limits and they always leave the remotes for the TV up there so I can’t even watch my favorite programs after everyone else has gone to bed.  Plus, Mama Dog always puts this stinky stuff in her essential oil diffuser at night that she says will help me relax and rest during the night.  All I’ve been doing lately is rest and relax!   But it does serve as a nightlight and I can see to supervise some of my Companions if I’m quiet and remember to put everyone and everything back exactly as it was before Mama Dog gets up in the morning.  And if I remember to act really tired and weak when she comes into the family room.  That sure makes her agreeable, when she thinks I’m all stiff and sore from my ‘condition’.  Ha ha ha.  Georgie still has a few tricks up her sleeve!

I will try to keep you posted, gentle readers, on my progress with physical therapy, medication and the like.  I believe Mama Dog has been keeping her readers updated on my condition on her social media account, but I wouldn’t know, as, again, I am locked out of most of my technology because it requires more physicality that I’m allowed at this time.  But I would greatly appreciate your thoughts and good wishes.  And, as always, I thank you for your support.

Georgie Speaks

Georgie Speaks

I realize it’s been some time since my Independence Day post.  I have been struggling with such fatigue and have found it most difficult to manage both my duties within the Family Bed and my obligations to you, gentle readers.  Additionally, my Mama Dog has been in desperate need of a Social Secretary – someone to screen visitors and make appointments with other family members – and I simply could not refuse to offer her my assistance. It’s a rather mundane job, but my work with troubled Companions has made me specially suited to the task.

I have been resting as much as possible, though I am still deeply, deeply tired from the release of my W.O.I.D. (Wrath of Irish Dachshund) over the Fourth of July holiday.  An unexpected water outage on the 4th delayed the actual celebration until the 5th.  Bachmann swears he had nothing to do with the leak in the water line, but I don’t believe him.  Forcing the celebration to be held on the anniversary of the Battle of the Manolada in 1316 is just too much of a coincidence.  Bachmann is well known to have a fetish for the Infante Ferdinand of Majorca, and any opportunity he can find to dredge up that old chestnut … well, he takes it.  If I have to hear him rant about how Ferdinand was robbed of his rightful claim to the Principality of Achaea, I’m going to boil his macaroni art.  Gah …

Even though my family’s celebration was a day late, it was no less spectacular.  I’m told the grilled hamburgers were quite tasty.  As I wasn’t given the option of trying one for myself, I must go with popular opinion on that subject.  I tried to preserve my strength as much as I could during the day, anticipating the release of my W.O.I.D. later on.

Once the fireworks began, I was able to put out a prolonged and impressive display of Irish Dachshund power.  Here I am in the initial phase of W.O.I.D. release.

Release the WOID 1

Note my upright, curled tail position and the focused intensity in my face.  This is classically perfect form.  I am leaning slightly forward on my Fraunches, allowing for more flexibility and torque in my rear quadrants.  If Daddy Dog had not insisted on that ridiculous and heinously unflattering harness, I would have had the fireworks by the throat.

Here I am, approximately mid-release.

Release the W.O.I.D. 2

 

In this image, I am in a relaxed, yet alert and ready position.  My tail is still elevated, signaling my preparedness for the battle.  My haunches are flexed and in a widened stance, which gives me a powerful leaping ability.  Again, the wretched harness is clearly holding me back and diminishing my impact.

The wind began to blow quite hard shortly after the mid-point of the fireworks display and Daddy Dog declared that we would be stopping for the night.  But I was able to release the final vestiges of my W.O.I.D. before everyone dispersed.

This photograph captures me in meditation as I prepare myself for the recovery period.  This process is crucial to my mental and physical well-being.  Had I known Mama Dog was filming, I would have looked away, as it is a very private moment.  But I’m choosing to share it with you, dear readers, in the hopes that you can gain further understanding into the mind of the native Irish Dachshund.

After the WOID

As I said, the recovery period for a total and complete W.O.I.D. release is substantial.  I am still in partial convalescence, even though I am trying to keep up with my responsibilities both to my Companions and my human family.  My humans have been most understanding  over my need to take frequent and prolonged naps.  My Companions have not.

I have found the Family Bed in complete disarray on a daily basis, despite my attempts to keep them tidy.  Je m’appelle Claude, Plato-pus, and of course, Bachmann have been the biggest culprits in Family Bed disharmony over the past few weeks.  My plan is to rest enough over this weekend and begin intensive training with them next week.  I only hope it’s not too late.

Despite the delay in celebration, the utter exhaustion from the release, and the resulting chaos in the Family Bed, I am satisfied that this Independence Day will be remembered, as it should be.

Remember, dear friends, Independence is a right.  Swimming through water lines and causing breaks and leaks is not.  As always, thank you for your support.

 

 

The View From the Family Bed

The View From the Family Bed

Occasionally, I take a day away from The Family Bed to run errands, attend workshops & meetings, or maybe even grab a latte with my Spirit Guide.  Even though I love my work, I sometimes just need a break, you know?  I try not to take these ‘holidays’ very often:  Many of my Companions are very fragile, emotionally and mentally, so I hesitate to leave them unsupervised for any length of time.  You never know when a Companion’s anxiety will overflow and cause  the others to meltdown.

Once, I went to the post office to receive delivery of a batch of carpet samples.  We were re-decorating Candace’s tunnel and I felt like a more lively carpet would encourage her to make it all the way from one end to the other.  Anyway, in the short time I was gone, Hobart the Holiday Hedgehog had started an intense debate on religion with Emrys the Elephant (who currently practices Judaism, but was born into a family of Vodou practitioners).  The fervor of the discussion was apparently fueled by the half pot of hazelnut espresso someone found in the kitchen.  Upon my return to The Family Bed, I found Emrys, trunk knotted in three places, and Hobart wrestling on a table in the cafeteria.  As Hobart stood atop the clearly distressed Emrys, the other Companions circled the table, chanting for Hobart to deliver “The People’s Elbow.”   Clearly, the Companions had been watching more wrestling than I had realized – and I’m pretty certain Bachmann was responsible for that.  He’s always mucking about in my Hulu account.  By the time I was able to disperse the Companions and calm both Hobart and Emrys, it was late in the evening and I had not only missed my supper, but the Entertainment Tonight, as well, which is one of my favorite programs.  I learn a great deal about dealing with fragile egos, emotions and personalities by observing celebrities in their natural habitat.  It’s like a primate documentary with spray tans.

So, as I said, I try to stick pretty close to home.  I’ve tried leaving one particular Companion in charge for the time I’ll be gone, but that never works out well.  Invariably, whichever Companion is chosen quickly devolves into a power-hungry megalomaniac.  For example, once, I left Marshall the Mammoth in charge.  He’d had an especially productive week in therapy and was feeling quite relaxed and calm.  I was only leaving the Bed for a few minutes to supervise the Daddy Dog as he transferred meat from the grill to the kitchen and I felt the responsibility would be a great confidence booster for Marshall.  When I got back, Marshall was calling himself “Marshall Law.” He had moved all the ambulatory members of The Family Bed into the storm shelter and was wielding Breakfast in Bed Chewy like a club in the doorway, shouting “Remember the Alamo!”  sigh

This morning, I had an important meeting with my Spirit Guide.  She’s been working very hard for the past several months on getting me fitted for a prosthetic thumb and finger – her own invention – called The Do-Claw.  She says I’m a perfect candidate and that the Do-Claw will allow me to provide even more for my Companions.  I was gone for about a half hour.  And when I returned, this was what greeted me:

ItsJustSomePancakes.com - View From the Family Bed
ItsJustSomePancakes.com – View From the Family Bed

Apparently, Bachmann began taunting Je m’appelle Claude about who is the better aquatic creature and fisticuffs ensued.  Here, I’m told by Claude’s close friend and fellow crustacean, LeVergne the Lobster, that Claude is performing his signature move on Bachmann.  It’s called the “Crab Rangoon,” and it appears to have been quite successful in getting that porky-mouthed beaver to shut his tree hole.  For once.