BarkingProse

Mom always said I was one play away from a season ending sports injury. Unfortunately she was right. Last time I went up for a high ball I landed wrong and something hurt awful bad.

I didn’t want to admit that I was hurt and I sure didn’t want to stop my acrobatics. You gotta understand. I was born to fly.

Flying over four foot fences was a piece of cake. Leaping onto the kitchen counter was easy as pie. Mom used to wonder if I was part cat.

I had so many great nicknames: Flyboy, Airborne, Incoming, Basher the Flying Dog. My favorite picture of me was taken at the beach. I had gone high for a ball and had lots of hang time. Mom caught it just right with her camera.

Mom heard me yelp when I landed a couple of weeks ago. She ran over and lifted me up. She carried me to the bed and put me down real gently. My leg was already feeling better, but mom was dripping tears on my head. I felt so bad to see her cry.

Tess ran right over and stuck her nose in my business. “I’m okay,” I told Tess though I wasn’t sure how bad I was hurt.

“Oh buddy,” mom said. “I sure hope you didn’t tear your ACL.”

What the heck is an ACL? I learned the next day when I went to see Dr. Brad. He felt around my knee and announced that I did indeed have a partial tear of my ACL. He said it didn’t feel like a bad tear, but it was definitely torn.

It was awful quiet in the room when Dr. Brad explained to mom what she already knew. No running for at least a month. Always be on a leash outside even when I did my business. Absolutely no flying. Lots of glucosamine and other supplements. After a month I could resume light workouts but no ball, no jumping, no this, no that.

It coulda been a lot worse. Me and mom were wondering if I would have to have surgery. Dr. Brad said not right now. We’re gonna see if I can heal up by taking it easy.

The first few days were really weird. Mom went everywhere with me because she tied my leash to her waist. She went with me to the poop zone when I had to go. Then I went with her to the bathroom when she had to do her business.

We got pretty good at our little dance. To keep my mind occupied, mom has been doing lots of training. My manners are a lot sharper.

Next week Dr. Brad says I get to run free, but no jumping. I’m afraid I’m a little out of shape. I haven’t been running the fence line and that fool neighbor dog thinks I don’t live here anymore.

I’ll let you know how I’m doing. It may be my flying days are over but I can still chase the goats. Just watch me!

 

 

Me and Nellie are Blue Dogs. I’ve barked about that before, but I’ll explain it again in case you weren’t paying attention.

Aussies come in lots of different colors. I like to think us blue merle dogs are the finest color. Codie was blue. Me and Nellie are blue.

Codie had soft amber eyes the color of honey. Mom used to call her Princess Amber Eyes.

I was born with Paul Newman blue eyes. People see me on the street and say, “Look at his eyes!”

Nellie has a blue eye and a brown eye. It’s hard to know which eye to look at. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking trash about Nellie. It’s just the way she is.

Nellie doesn’t see so good, and everybody assumed she was blind in her blue eye. It turns out her blue eye sees pretty well but the brown eye doesn’t work anymore.

Nellie gets lost real easy because she only sees one side of things. Mom has learned how to be her guide, making sure Nellie doesn’t fall or get stuck in a corner.

In this silly short bark I tossed together this morning, you’ll see two pictures. One is me, the other is Nellie. Do you know which blue eye belongs to which dog?