Arse Over Teakettle

Inspirational song: Crumblin' Down (John Mellencamp)

I've seen the X-rays, with the narrowed spaces between some of the vertebrae and the poor fit of his right femur in the hip socket. I have worried over the calluses and sores caused by the jumping, dragging on the ground, and rubbing against the wheelchair. I know he's really got problems. But I swear, that little dog is playing me. With his daddy, he goes where he needs to go, lines up with the pony cart, and allows himself to be positioned without struggle. With me, he is behaving entirely differently. The man was gone all day, and I had my first solo flight taking care of Hot Wheels. I think he is pulling one over on me. Seriously. He fell over a lot more, bent his right knee so it was harder to place him in the wheelchair every time, and I swear to you, this afternoon when I leaned over and tried to put him in the harness, he intentionally flopped and buried his face between my breasts. Where did this little player come from? Yes, he came from a part of the world where they don't treat women very well, but I didn't expect a dog from there to be this much of a rude boy.

I have been told to keep him outside as much as possible, so that he burns off energy in his wheels, and takes every opportunity to strengthen his left hind leg. He has feeling below the waist, but he has very little control of his back legs, and even less strength in them. But in my uneven park, with tree roots, cobblestones in random spots, and holes dug by another naughty red-head, there are traps everywhere. The more he races after my other dogs, the more he risks catching air and tumbling arse over teakettle. At least four times today, I went outside and found him flipped on one side. There's nothing he can do in that position other than lie there and look pitiful. He weighs just enough, and his wheels are just awkward enough, that turning him over is extremely difficult for me. I'm pretty sure I've already strained my shoulder tending to him. I've been very vocal in this blog about my love of the physical therapy profession. I am ready to find a specialist and get him going on a program. Once he fills out into his adult body, I'm not going to be able to lift him. Now is the time to get him strong and healthy. And maybe a few months with me will teach him some manners. That dirty dog.