I’m Feeling Much Better Now…

My last post earned me a few emails and even a phone call, just to make sure I was doing all right.  I just wanted to thank those folks.
Anyway, things worked out with a last-minute cancellation at the specialist, and I got in to see him last week because his office is five minutes from my workplace.  It went fairly well, but he wants to do one more test which can’t happen until July 7th.  It’s all right, though, because the pain has subsided to an occasional dull throb.
Strutter returned from her vacation, and actually thought to bring me a present.  I’ve never had a girl bring me anything back from a vacation before, and never received anything so thoughtful as this.  It’s a hand-crafted wooden box with brass circles placed on each side, making it a die.  Inside the box are eight little wooden dice, all made to look like the box.  This gift told me that she has embraced my nerdy side, and means that I’ll probably have to marry her before she finds some other nerd.  🙂
The dogs (and cat) are doing well after my week of sitting them.  There were two times that things got a little hairy.  The first was around three in the morning, when Taj woke me up to go outside.  I was not too happy about this, as I’d taken four Tylenol PM capsules a couple of hours before, but I opened the door and stoop there, groggily watching him as he pranced around the yard before finding a place to pee.  After he did, he came back up to the back patio and decided he didn’t want to come back in.  He just flopped down in a small hole and stared at me.  I wasn’t going to wait on him to change his mind, so I closed the sliding glass door.  Well, I almost closed it.  It gave me a bit of a fight at the last three inches…  and made some terrible yowling noise.  Oh shit.  I think I just killed the cat. Looking down, I saw a small gray and black blur streak off towards the back of the house.  As I closed the door, Taj decided that he wanted to come in after all.  (The cat was fine.  I had to hunt her down for ten minutes, but I was able to cajole her out from under the bed and make sure I didn’t break anything.)
The second hairy moment was one afternoon when it was about to rain and I was starving.  I didn’t have anything to eat at the house, but I didn’t want to put the dogs outside right before it started raining because, with my luck, they’d be soaked and covered in mud by the time I got back with food.  So I made a command decision.  I’d leave them in the house and made a quick sprint to the store.  It’d only be five minutes.  So I locked them in and sped off to buy some Lean Pockets.  I got back to the house just as the first drops of rain were starting to fall, and let myself in.
I should probably explain what happens when I walk in the house and the dogs are there.  They attack me.  Taj will charge me with whatever toy was closest to him when he heard me pull up, and proceed to jab it into my thighs, crotch, and ass until I play with him.  Chewbacca will dance in place, barking wilding and waging her tail so hard that her entire back end wiggles back and forth.  (I call this the butt-waggle.)  She will do this until I pet her like crazy, and then she will continue to bark at me every time I stop petting her.  Anyway, I walked in the house and got dog-swarmed.
I’m carrying my keys in one hand, because I just re-locked the front door, and the grocery bag in the other.  Both of the dogs are barking like they haven’t seen me in months, even thought I’d just given each of them a rawhide bone five minutes ago.  (I figured if they were gnawing on a rawhide, they’d leave everything else alone.)  So I turn around from locking the door, and Taj jumps up at me.
Do you remember the physical comedy pranks that boys played in middle school?  Like the one where Person A crouches down right behind the knees of the victim, while Person B shoves against the victim’s chest?  Imagine that scenario, where Person A is a butt-waggling Chewbacca, Person B is a hundred forty-five pounds (66 kg) of playful Taj, and the victim is me.

Down I went, twisting desperately so as not to crush poor Chewie, and spraining my knee in the process.  But I succeeded in saving her life, and was immediately rewarded with face-licks.

No dogs were harmed in the making of this story, although Chewie isn’t drawn to scale very well…

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