Phooey

You promised me this wouldn’t hurt anymore.

I know Tweed.  I know.  I guess I lied :(

You also promised me we’d have fun at the beach today.  But all it did was rain, and all I did was limp.

This really sucks.  Our cancellation date for Regionals is fast approaching, and I’ve pretty much lost all hope that Tweed will be competing this year, or in fact, ever again.

The prolotherapy was supposed to be the miracle cure for his persistent limp and pain.  Instead, all it did was clean out my bank account, and make things worse.  He’s in more pain now than he ever was before, and I’m not convinced that a secondary infection is the culprit here – the antibiotics have done nothing but take away some of the swelling and leave big red inflamed knots in the spots he was injected at.  His limp appears to be chronic, and it comes and goes with varying degrees of intensity.  Last week he actually played at agility class with no obvious signs of distress during or after.  Then he might go for a half hour walk with us on the property and come back tripodding.  I am ready to tear out my hair.

And the next person who tells me that I should ‘just be grateful he’s healing’ might get their hair torn out.  The implication here is that a) Regionals don’t matter and b) that I care more about the sport than about my dog.  I find both of these implications really offensive!!  First of all, Tweed and I have worked damn hard for Regionals.  I’ve been ridiculed, humiliated, insulted, threatened with poles and pushed very hard by the Sadist – all of which I am grateful for.  It has made me a much better handler, and Tweed has always deserved a much better handler.  For the first time since we started playing the sport, I had the confidence that we were going to play to win this year, not just play to squeak by on barely qualifying.  That’s a lot of work down the drain, and an immense let down.

Secondly, Tweed is NOT healing, akshully. If he was healing, we wouldn’t even be seeing these blog posts about how sad I am that he might not get to play.  If he were healing, he’d be healed by now!  Of course I don’t care more about the sport than about my dog – how on earth could I do that?  The sport *IS* my dog – the whole point of having this procedure done was so that he wouldn’t hurt when he tried to play agility.  Realistically, I could have put him on a low dose of pain killer and a modified exercise program for the rest of his life and written it off as an old pet dog with feet problems, life goes on, whatever – but Tweed loves to play, and I love to play with him.  I am mentally prepared to retire him when he’s too old to play, but he’s not old yet.  He’s not ready to retire.  When he played at class last week there was nothing but joy on his face.  It was more blissful than The Rabbit Face that the WooTWoo gets even, and that’s saying something.

Lastly, I love any one of my dogs more than I love any sport.  If I liked the sport more than I liked my dogs, I wouldn’t even have this:

Unless there is such a sport as Bunny Speed Eating, the WooTWoo is not going to win any titles any time soon, that’s for sure!

Are you saying I can’t eat bunnies anymore?

Not all, TWooie.  In fact, since planting my vegetable garden, I have learned about myself that I am happiest when you are eating the bunnies that are trying to eat my garden.  Saves me money on dog food too!

Phew.  Cuz, umm, I was going to eat them anyway.

(That’s my boy!  Subversive, disobedient and perpetually hungry)

Even the weather has been mopey and pouty this last while, much like me.  It’s done nothing but rain, rain and rain some more, sometimes with some stormy winds thrown in for good measure.  It’s partly why I’ve been MIA for a while – it’s not been nice enough outside to take photos.  We braved the rain at the beach today, but I took only a few pictures because it was just too miserable to liberate my camera from inside my jacket.

And it turns out Mr. Woo is a bit of a diva when it comes to lousy weather.  If it’s raining in the morning, he no longer wants to go outside to pee.  He says he’d rather just hold it until the sun comes back.

He might be crossing his legs for a long time yet.

Sucks.

Of course, the weather is bound to improve pretty soon – I *always* get a sunburn at Regionals, without fail.  A painful, make-me-cry sunburn.  There have been years where it rained up to the day before, was brilliantly sunny and boiling hot for the entire event, and then started raining again literally as I was packing up my tent and such.  So if history is anything to go by, the weather should clear up next week.

Just in time for me to cancel Tweed’s entry.  *pout*  I am not going to deny how bummed I am.  Running Piper will be a poor consolation prize.  I am very proud of how far she has come, but for all intents and purposes she is just a baby dog, and even if she manages to qualify, I’m not going to be taking her to Nationals as my sole dog.  She’s just not good enough yet to make it worthwhile.  And that’s the other let down – this is the first time in years that Nationals will be held within driving distance. It was like the universe was pulling it all together to be Tweed’s year to shine, and now at the last minute, it’s all unraveled in a spectacularly disappointing crash.

Yes, I do realize that this entry is one giant POOR ME.  But indulge me, would you please?  Don’t tell me that I should be grateful that my dog still has 4 legs, or doesn’t have cancer, or isn’t possessed by demons with plans to destroy all of the earth’s strawberries and chocolate as soon it chants itself into enough evil force.  I am grateful for all of those things every day of my life.  Right now, it’s just not enough to cheer me up.

Although now I do want chocolate.

That’s nice.  I want you to throw this Wootie Toy™ for me, but I’m not seeing that happening either.

Phooey.