Ass? Yard. Yard? Ass.

Whoops!  I did it again.  Lost my balance out in the yard, fell on my ass, bruising my right hip in the process.  Were it not for the padding that my neurologist INSISTS that I get rid of down there, I could have been hurt more seriously.

Here’s what happened.

See, most of the folks in this trailer park own dogs.  Unfortunately, most of the dogs in this trailer park are SMARTER than their owners and they run free pretty much whenever they like.  Two in particular have been a pain over the last couple days.  They’re nice, sweet dogs who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but Raven thinks ALL dogs (other than Shiloh) are going to try to HURT her like that damn pit bull across the street has time after time.  Shiloh just likes to scream and scream at them.

So, our doggies had an urgent need to use the yard.  So, one at a time we took them out… Gail standing with a shovel to ward off intruders, me holding the leash and trying to keep each dog on task.

Raven had to posture and growl and bark and bristle, but she finally DID pee, then scratched the dirt to show she meant business.  I had to get Gail’s help to drag her back to the steps.

Shiloh wanted to run and sniff and run and sniff, and then the dogs came back, so Shiloh wanted to run over to where they were.  She peed, turned and ran to the front of the yard.  I turned as well… and lost my balance.

“YIPE!”

The sound came from Shiloh, not me.  My falling “startled” her.

“Uh, Gail?  A little help?” I asked from my back with my head on the downhill side of a gentle slope in the yard.

She helped me up, and that is when I noticed my knee hurt.  My right forearm and hip hurt as well.  So did my left shoulder.

Limped back into the house to assess damage.  Just a small abrasion on the knee.  Felt my hip and noticed a big lump right above the point where my femur attaches to the hip.  (The picture is about actual size.)  The lump has gone down, but this baby still stings and is no doubt going to bruise up quite nicely.

I’ve always felt that when you fall off the world, the best thing to do is get right back on it.  So Gail and I went shopping.

Someone Call the ASPCA!

This is a doggie.  This is a SAD doggie.  This is a doggie who WANTS something she didn’t GET the MOMENT she ASKED for it.

Someone should call the ASPCA.  Or at least feel SORRY for the sad, sad doggie.

See, in the morning there’s nothing Shiloh (our 4-year old German shepherd) likes better than to go outside on her cable, lay in the sun, watch the neighbors and hope against hope that a cat or a rabbit or a squirrel walks by so she can scream and scream and scream at it (she doesn’t bark when she’s excited.  Barking is for “ALARM!  ALARM!” purposes.  Excitement is vocalized by screaming.  It’s delightful).  Well, this morning, Shiloh got her wish and sat outside on her cable for about 10 minutes.  Then we heard the universal sound of a dog who wants to come back inside.

“BARK!”

She was standing on the porch facing the door.  And no wonder!  It was in the low 30s out there.  CHILLY for a short-haired doggie.

So, Gail let her back in.

Five minutes later…

FIVE minutes later…

FIVE FREAKIN’ MINUTES LATER…

I’m sitting here at the computer and I feel German shepherd face on my right arm.  I look and see the plaintive brown eyes, brimming with what look like doggie tears.  The doggie has warmed up and wants to go BACK OUTSIDE.

Gail and I both told her that she wasn’t going ANYWHERE.  I told her to LAY DOWN!

She laid down on her pad right next to my desk and began to complain.

Seriously.

Wanna see a video of Shiloh complaining?

Check the video at the top of the page.

It’s really, really enjoyable.

So, I went and took a shower.  When I was done, Shiloh was back outside.  A few minutes ago, I heard it again.

“BARK!”

As soon as I hear a “b….b…b…b…BARK! (cough!)”

That’s when I’ll let her in.

"The Raven" — With Apologies to Mr. Poe

(Ed. Note:  This happened last night.  It wasn’t really poem-worthy… but then, what is?)

Once upon a late night dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.
Over many a wasted evening watching TV shows that bore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my bedroom door.
‘Tis my addled brain,” I muttered, ‘thinks it hears stuff at my door.’
Only this, and nothing more.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak November,
And each separate family member went to bed to sleep and snore.
Eagerly I wished to hurry — vainly I had sought to scurry
Off to sleep to cease to worry — about a border collie‘s sore.
For the rare and gentle doggie whose left paw was raw and sore.
Licked to hairless, bleeding sore.

Back under my covers turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” thought I, “I can’t ingore, say, something at my bedroom doorway
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore –
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;
Tis my mind, and nothing more.

Open here I flug the door and there, like some fur covered boar
In there stepped my doggie, Raven, border collie, mention in this verse before.
Not the least obeisance made she, not a minute stopped or stayed she;
But with mein of lord or lady, pushed her way right through the door.
Checked my bed, then turned and stared and plopped and laid there on the floor.
Plopped and laid there, nothing more.

Then this ebony dog beguiling my tired, worn face into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance she wore.
“Though thy paw be sore and hairless, seems you’ve been a little careless,
Cuddly, border collie Raven, wandering from the kitchen floor –
Tell me what thou wantest now so that I can get back to sleep.
Quoth my Raven, “Weep, Weep, Weep!”

My sweet Raven, laying lonely on the bedroom rug, made only
That one sound, as if her soul in that one word she did outpour.
Back in bed, I fixed the covers, patted them and soon discovered
When I scarely more than muttered, “Get on the bed and go to sleep.
On the morrow, we’ll awake and prosper from a good night’s sleep.
Quoth my Raven, “Weep, Weep, Weep!”

“Lay there then,” my whisper told her, “Have it your way,” o’er my shoulder,
I designed to just ignore her, laying on my bedroom floor.
Desolate, she caught my eye and, like a softie, made me sigh.
I really hate to hear her cry, “Come over here,” I did implore.
“Come here and see me,” I commanded. She slowly rose up from the floor.
Came up and kissed me from the floor.

Then my Raven, no more waiting, not a moment hesitating,
Hopped up from the bedroom rug and took her spot from nights before.
She closed her eyes, sailed off to dream of that whatever good dogs dream.
Perhaps of plates of whipping cream that she and Shiloh do adore.
Warm and comfy I soon joined her, went to sleep just like before.
Love them doggies — evermore!