No doubt you’re familiar with the “man cold,” the notion that men, compared to women (we’re talking the biological variety here) are unable to function, possibly even exaggerating their symptoms to a degree.
I mean, who hasn’t seen a husband (father, uncle, etc) immobilized on the couch, sneezing, hacking and sniffling while imploring his loved ones to fetch orange juice, soup, cereal and the like, barely able to raise his hand from beneath the covers? Meanwhile, when his wife (girlfriend, mother, etc) is sick, she swipes a tissue across her nose, gets dressed and goes to work for 16 hours.
True, we’ve been taught men have a lower tolerance for pain (and presumably couldn’t handle childbirth). Maybe that explains the discrepancy.
Still, I think dogs take this ability to “push through the pain” to a whole ‘nother level. How do I know? I got a glimpse of Zoey in action last week.
A glimpse of the trail. . . where we’ve been walking our dogs for years.
The HH had taken her for their weekly walk at a local trail (where I stopped accompanying them after a wolf-sighting several years ago). Even without threats of the lupine variety, the place is still home to all kinds of wildlife, from bunnies and squirrels to groundhogs, coyotes and the occasional fox.
While the HH insists it’s perfectly safe (“there are tons of people there!”), my worst nightmare is always that one of them will be attacked by one of those wild animals and I’ll get a call from the local hospital about the hubs requiring emergency surgery, while the dog(s) wander aimlessly in the woods (yes, I do have a vivid imagination).
Yesterday, that dream became a reality. Our sweet Zoey was attacked. By another dog.
As the HH tells the story, they were strolling along with the trail basically all to themselves, when a dog raced from behind them. Before they knew what was happening, the (unleashed) monstrocitiy leapt onto Zoey’s back and tore into her.
No warning. No provocation. Not even a sound before the attack.
Zoey yelped and did little else. Before the beast could snatch another mouthful, the HH kicked it with his (thankfully, rather sturdy) boot and it ran back whence it came. No other humans in sight.
Zoey’s follow-up at the vet (see the shaved bit on her left side as she tries to reach it).
He checked Zoey’s back to ensure no wounds, then continued along. Moments later, they encountered a couple with the same dog, this time on leash. When confronted, the couple denied it had been their dog (there was no mistaking it–a dalmatian, for goodness’ sake) and refused to accept any responsibility whatsoever.
It was only after they returned home that I noticed a slightly matted area in Zoey’s hair and, reaching to pat it, recoiled when I saw my fingers covered in blood.
After a three-hour wait at the emergency vet, they identified two puncture wounds, a laceration and one serious scratch. The area was shaved, cleaned, glued back together with surgical glue, before they sent us off ($800 later) with antibiotics, probiotics, antibiotic cream and a reassurance that she’d be better in a couple of weeks.
Our normally rambunctious, happy chatterbox spent the next day silently lying on the tile floor in the powder room, afraid to descend the stairs (even those two leading from the kitchen to the back yard) and ignoring me when I opened the fridge, clanked my spoon on the cereal bowl or even dipped into the peanut butter jar (previously unheard of with this girl).
I can guess why: she must have been in considerable pain. Although we had antibiotics and a painkiller, the vet did mention it could take a day or two for them to kick in. Plus, there was a huge gash on her side that will need time to heal regardless.
It’s been interesting to see how she’s retreated and isolated herself, normally she’s so garrulous and in-your-face. I suppose pain isn’t known to prompt spontaneous partying or dancingn on tables, come to think of it.
Still, our Ms. Zoey has not been the least bit bad-tempered about her ordeal.
After a few days. . . .
Instead, she’s allowed herself time and space, while remaining sweet, calm, and receptive to affection (and food). Just a wee bit less outgoing than usual, she seems to recognize intuitively that this intense discomfort deserves some respect, and that she needs to provide herself time to rest and heal.
Rather than rail against the pain, she accepts it as inevitable and–unlike most humans–is willing to tolerate this as her present reality, even without knowing how long it will take to (or even if it will ever) resolve so she can get back to normal.
If only humans had the same capacity for self-care, amiright?
But pain is one of those bodily sensations with which humans have a hard time. And it’s no wonder: pain is meant to be an urgent message, letting us know something is wrong.
The human body, when working properly, does not experience pain (unless imposed from without). But if you’re walking around with daily headaches, daily stomach aches, daily joint aches–well, sorry to say, it’s not supposed to be that way. And I don’t care if you’re older; I’ve known many people in their 70s, 80s and 90s (to wit, my dad) who were active, mobile and continued to be generally pain-free as they aged.
We humans have access to techniques such as physiotherapy or Jon Kabat-Zinn’s mindfulness meditation to deal with long-term pain and its effects. These days, vets suggest many of the same for our dogs as well (a friend recently offered to do reiki on Zoey).
What’s fascinating about how mindfulness meditation helps with pain is that it doesn’t necessarily change the actual level of physical pain; but being able to focus the mind and change our mentality in the moment allows us to tolerate it more effectively.
Our girl, in this case, seems to have cultivated a similar mental state all on her own. Within a few days, thankfully, she was once again behaving like her usual self.
Back to herself! Now just waiting for the gash to fully heal.
Was her pain eradicated? Or does she simply accept that her state at the moment includes some pain? Of course, we’ll never know for sure. Either way, it just goes to show that dogs are amazing.
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Follow up to last week’s challenge: Maintain a Sense of Humor
You might say that last week’s challenge was really built for this week’s: I mean, with a new dog in the house, a holiday coming up (now cancelled), work deadlines to meet and a suddenly-injured other dog on our hands, who wouldn’t need a sense of humor to get through the week?
Ah, but I was talking about having a sense of humor in the general sense, the way Groucho Marx had a sense of humor, or Ricky Gervais has a sense of humor, or my friend Karla has a sense of humor and can make me laugh at even the most mundane details of daily life.
So, did I maintain my sense of humor in that way this past week? I like to think so.
In our 30s, my friends and I loved to ask people this question: If you had to give up two of the following three things, which would go first? And which would be the last to go–the one without which you could not live?
The three things were great food, great sex, and a great laugh.
Note the modifier “great” in each case. In other words, you could still enjoy GOOD food, sex or laughter.
We agreed unanimously: the last to go–in other words, the most important in the list–was a great laugh. We could live with less-than-great food or sex, but life without a fabulous belly laugh, the kind where you go on for 15 minutes, you can barely breathe at the end and the tears stream down your cheeks–well, without that kind of laughter, life would not be quite as worthwhile, would it.
This past week, while devoid of such life-affirming belly laughs, did contain its fair share of humor. Reminiscing with the HH, sharing a private joke with a friend, putting myself out there on social media–those were all sources of enjoyable giggles that kept me feeling as if my sense of humor is still intact.
What’s the funniest thing you encountered over the past week?
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As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoy Be the Dog, please share it with someone else! Or support me and my writing with a paid or free subscription. I’d be eternally grateful either way.
Ricki, I've been meaning to reach out about this story for... Well, almost two months now 🤦♀️ So heartbreaking and poor Zoey!! That was a fairly serious injury she was dealt -- and to take it all in stride like that. What a champ! I'm so glad she healed up quickly ♥️