#fluffblob

For some reason or another my husband wasn't home and I was in charge of  walking both dogs by myself. 

Following the new safety rules (implemented since Clarence's first scare) I took Gumbo first, Clarence second.

Our theory was that walking the dogs separately would allow a single human to better control the dog's physical being in an emergency such as:

to save them from a stray pit-bull mauling

from terrorizing (or being being terrorized by) a small human child

stray cat attack

Gumbo's walk...went well. Lots of sniffing, lots of ground scratching, huge poop. Exemplary performance compared to his normal "drag" around the block.  We set the bar low for him, he climbs there slowly every time.

Next up: Clarence.

My husband and I considered Clarence to be our REAL walker. His cruising pace averaged about 15 minutes around a city block (to Gumbo's 20, 25.) Real dog speed with only a touch of feline obstinacy. 

We were nearly home when THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER OF DOOM hopped into our neighbor's window to let Clarence know he was on the wrong side of the block. 

For those of you not familiar: The front window of a Philadelphia row home is a peek into the owners life. Be it art show, terrarium, shrine, holiday decorations or in this case, animal menagerie.

It's not uncommon to see a pet hanging out on top of a sofa beside a front window with their nose pressed against the glass waiting to scare the shit out of passers by.  

The window in question-Fishtown, Philadelphia: 

Attack of the fluff blob

Clarence is VERY dog reactive. He hates fast dogs, he hates loud dogs, he hates dogs he can not get to. He hates this dog. He hates him so much he flips himself OVER onto his BACK by trying to jump at the window while leashed to KILL THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

I collected my fluffy sack of rage and sprinted around the corner to my house. I sat him down next to my steps and started to access whether or not his fragile spine had survived the fall by poking him and asking if  telling him he was okay. (Because why not?)

The doctor said that I would KNOW if a disc had been ruptured. There would be zero doubt between an actual rupture and the type of "inflammation" he had had before. 

Other than being red eyed and slightly shaken...Clarence seemed okay. I brought him into the house happy that we'd dodged a bullet. Until the next morning...

The doctor had been right, I knew the exact millisecond the rupture happened.