Marley's Owners Had It So Easy!

My January 11th of 2009 was much better than the eleventh day of 2007!

A bit of history: the baddogs are technically not mine. They belong to Roommate. Roommate divorced in 2005, and I started living with her a year after that. Since her divorce, she has become quite successful in her professional life, and travels most of the month, thereby leaving me the caretaker 75% of the time. Because she is gone so often, and because I've become incredibly attached to them, their vet, groomer, and walker all know that "Jack and Coco have two mommies." Just like Heather :)

It was not always like that. I was terrified of dogs. Even a year after I met Jack, I was still concerned that he would suddenly turn on me and go for my neck with that powerful jaw of his. When I first moved in, I made a habit of always using little Coco'nut as a shield, reasoning that Jack would not attack me if I had her in my arms.

Soon after I moved in, Jack was extremely jealous of me. I took up space and I gave more attention to Coco than he felt necessary. On January 11th, Roommate called me upstairs. Jack was sprawled across her bed and seemingly writhing in pain. "He must have really hurt his back," Roommate fretted. She called Penn Vet's ER, who instructed her to bring him in. Now, getting a "paralyzed" dog off a bed, down four flights of stairs (fourth floor of a rowhome, go figure!), down and across the street, and into an SUV is not easy when the dog is 130lbs of muscle and you believe he is actually and seriously injured. Roommate called Penn back and asked if they had an ambulance service.

Here is where it gets odd. "No," a nurse replied. "But call the Dog Charmer." The Dog Charmer is an 82 year old dog walker who simply has a way with dogs. He came over, walked up, and whispered in Jack's ears. Within 15 minutes, the dog wearily limped down four flights of stairs, across the street, and into the car. He cried the entire time, and took several breaks throughout the ordeal to gather his strength.

At Penn, the intake vet couldn't find anything wrong based on a physical exam. She ordered an x-ray. Nothing. The senior attending vet was called in. He ordered a neurological exam and a CT scan. Nothing. Exasperated, he called in an entire class of Penn Vet students plus any unoccupied nurses. They took turns poking, prodding, and flipping through the books, looking for answers.

The entire time, Roommate kept repeating, "I really think he might be faking this to get attention." It wasn't until the "paralyzed" dog spied a swishy cat tail in the hallway, bolted off a 5-ft high exam table, and bounded down the hall that he was totally done. Halfway down the hallway, he turned, met my eyes, and gave a big wide goofy grin.

6 hours later, Jack got what he wanted: all the attention a dog could ever hope to get. His story is on file with Penn. I believe he is famous.

Here is Jack looking sweetly angelic and quite tiny. Don't be fooled. He is a massive hunk of pure evil whom I absolutely and foolishly adore.
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Tip/trick/lesson of the day: If you have trouble waking up, put your alarm clock either across the room or in another room. The distant location will force you to get up and moving.