Dexterity and Skill
in Giggles on July 24, 2023
Jeff and I watched the 80’s classic, The Secret of my Success a couple of nights ago. There is an obscure line nestled in the middle of a conversation between two high-ranking executives, in which the junior of the two businessmen explains that his children’s new puppy had eaten his report; which means, in essence, his dog ate his homework.
That was unrealistically hilarious to me.
It made me think of all the improbable situations and scenarios that our dogs, cats, and other pseudo-domesticated animals get us into.
For example, in the last seven (or so) years, I have endured more than my fair share of insults and bodily injury at the hands—paws—of my animals. In fact, I’ve done several posts about my late Golden Retriever, Charley, and some of her most outstanding performances. With those notable achievements aside, let’s peruse some of my latest accomplishments.
In the last few years, I have had:
…a scratched cornea.
…a dislocated jaw.
…two dislocated knuckles.
…three bruised lumbar vertebrae.
…one bulging disc.
…a broken tailbone.
All thanks to my fur-babies.
Truth be told, the scratched cornea was technically my doing; however, my hand would not have flown with such impressive velocity into my face had my 110-pound Golden Retriever not been lounging lazily on the blanket I was trying reposition. I must say, I wore the eye patch extremely well.
We are a family who is very fond of big dogs. We like their impressive barks; we prefer to imagine it is those booming barks which act as an intruder deterrent of sorts. But, with big dogs, you get BIG puppies. Puppies, who still fall prey to puppy-behaviors: jumping, rough-housing, and my special favorite…ZOOMIES.
When London, our now six-year-old, seventy-five-pound, Goldendoodle was six months old, she dislocated my jaw. I know, that sounds hinky. Visualize, if you will, me trying to explain to my dentist how my jaw got dislocated without me being involved in some sort of Real Housewives of Houston fisticuffs.
I had actually completely forgotten about London laying me out when I went in for a routine cleaning. It was my dentist who cautiously broached the subject of why my jaw would no longer open to its normal size. He even went so far as to ask if I had recently been in an “accident.” I was super confused. It took me a minute to remember the London incident, and much like the senior executive from the other night’s movie, Dr. Chum was skeptical and hesitant to say the least.
What had happened was: London had a severe case of the zoomies. I had been sitting on the first step of my pool, casually leaning back against the beachfront entry, when all of a sudden, London lost all sense of direction and depth perception, and NAILED ME square in the jaw. She knocked me five feet across the pool.
We caught the whole thing on our security cameras.
https://youtube.com/shorts/62Jb22NQnzA?feature=share
I had to show my dentist, who then showed the video to everyone in the office. Everyone got a nice giggle at my expense.
Mrs. Bennett, our latest giant puppy, a Bernedoodle weighing in at 82-pounds, twisted two of my knuckles into pretzels as I had her leash wrapped around my fingers (rookie mistake), in an attempt to shower our vet with slobbery kisses and furry hugs. That was six months ago, and I still cannot get my wedding ring over that knuckle without force.
Now.
For the cherry on top, the icing on the cake, the grand finale…
Mrs. Bennett and my daughter’s new Labrador Retriever puppy literally swept me off my feet.
Again, our security cameras caught this on video. I looked like a cartoon. It was almost as if I was an extra in something eerily akin to the Roadrunner and Coyote, I think I actually went UP, as in lifted off the ground before being instantly and abruptly reacquainted with gravity with such force that I had the wind knocked out of me.
I was playing fetch with the two puppies, and their early morning energy was exceptionally high. Apparently, they both decided playing with a tennis ball was a lot less fun than playing chase with each other; the only real trouble was that neither of them clued me into the change of game. I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and before I knew what was going on, BAM!!!
Hello driveway, goodbye breath.
In less than a millisecond, I was stunned speechless. I was also unable to move. After the initial hit, I instinctively rolled to all fours, where I realized I would be stuck until someone came to my rescue. I could not stand up. I could not sit down. I was simply stuck.
That’s how my daughter found me.
To her credit, she didn’t laugh. Well, she didn’t laugh immediately. My boys did. Emma dutifully ran inside to get my husband, and I spent the rest of the day cussing my own inability to get out of harm’s way before it’s too late.
Dexterity and skill.
I possess neither.
That happened on a Friday, by Monday morning we were in the orthopedic’s office, staring at a doctor who was asking me the same sort of questions that my dentist did years ago, complete with the same look of incredulity and bewilderment. He too, absolutely wanted to see the video, because my injuries while somewhat consistent with a dog-initiated fall, were extensive. My tailbone was sitting at a 90-degree angle (about 45 degrees off), I had a building disc, and significant bone bruising up my lumbar spine.
Today, I’m ten days into a recovery that will take approximately ten weeks.
Ugh.
I’m feeling better today. I can move around with less pain. I can sleep through the night. For some reason, my family doesn’t want to leave me alone though. Go figure.
The boys say they’ve ordered a LifeAlert necklace for me.
For your Monday morning gaff:
