Adventure in Two Puppies

In 2009 we had to put down Farley, our 9-year-old black and white Australian Shepherd. He was the most expressive dog we’d yet had. He would “talk back” when he was told to do something. But after a few traumatic events he wouldn’t go outside anymore except to do his business. He wouldn’t even walk to the end of the driveway.  He was named for Judy Blume’s character “Fudge” whose full name was Farley Drexel Hatcher, and so I did call him if he was ever too mischievous. His lack of exercise, however, brought him to a state of grand obesity. He was so lovable and so vocal, but sadly his heart started to give out and he was struggling to breathe. So we found ourselves in a tough spot.

We’ve never been without a dog here for more than 6 months. And when we put Farley down I was devastated. So I was obnoxious. I complained and whined until we got a new puppy, a week later.

Which brought us Ginny, a red tri-colored Australian Shepherd with an attitude as big as her ears. She’s sassy and frisky, obnoxious and hyper-intelligent. We’ve never had such a trainable dog. And while I don’t love that my dad will only let us have Australian Shepherds, instead of rescuing a dog, I’ve never loved a dog more. She’s cuddly and playful, but now Ginny finds herself in a new situation.

For the first time ever the Johnson house has not one but two very puppy dogs. Aussies stay dogs for a couple of years and with the new addition of our red merle, yet to be named, 8-week-old puppy Ginny is a bit out of sorts. And I think back in a state of further puppy. We’ve only had the tiny one for 2 days, but they do seem to be getting on well. Ginny doesn’t quite know what to do about this new playmate that can’t really play the same way she does. And the puppy seems to want to play just as much but can’t keep up with Ginny’s ridiculous speed or crushing paws. Ginny wants the puppy to play with her toys, but won’t let the puppy hold one for more than a few seconds before Ginny snatches it right back.

I’m anxious to see if the puppy with calm Ginny down and bring her to some sort of strong maternal instinct. For now though, it’s mostly adorable chaos.


Adventure in Healing

I am now five weeks out from surgery. Well, five weeks and one day. After nearly five whole weeks of sleeping in a recliner…restlessly sleeping in a recliner, I finally found myself two nights ago giving in. I put  four pillows at the head of my bed and essentially found myself laying slightly flatter than the chair, but not much. Two nights now I’ve been able to painfully sleep in my bed.

I started physical theraphy on Wednesday. Something quite cool was decreed. I think it’s cool anyway. It filled me with quite a bit of pride.

As she read the surgeons report of what I had done she said,
“To have needed this done you must have been in the worst pain. The mere fact that you were walking around for months needing this surgery, but also working? You must have the highest tolerance of pain of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Yeah it did hurt a whole bunch. Complaining doesn’t make it better though.”

Later as she worked on the other bits of my shoulder and neck that are sore in the muscles she tried to work out some knots. One knot in particular was so tight that she had to use the full weight of herself just to make any progress on it. To which she said, “Why aren’t you just weeping? You’re a hero of pain.”

So it’s going to be a while; I’m off for at least 3 more weeks, but that works out because I start Harry Potter class again in a week. Can. Not. Wait.