"I swear to Dog, Mom, I didn't do this to Loki."
It hurts just looking at this picture. Loki is having another round of Limp Tail Syndrome. The vet and I have no idea why. I never saw him injure it. He's much too sensitive to Juno's softer play style to really rough handle her to the point of injuring himself. He's on an anti-inflammatory and as before, if it doesn't go away, we'll knock him out and take a photo of his hiney.
"Hey Big Boy! Can woo do this?" (swish-swish)
"Don't mock me Princess!"
I don't know what's worse, the pain he's in or the fear he has from it. In the middle of the night, he'll come to the side of our bed with his eyes questioning. He's uncomfortable and afraid. I really hate not being able to communicate that it's all right and he's going to be fine. But I secretly worry that a second occurance of this may mean something more. So for one night we invite him on the bed so he can lean on us. Only every few minutes he moves around and can't get comfortable. Last night I broke down, narc'd him with Benadryl and made him sleep in his own bed. I have my own insomnia issues.
"He's such an easy mark."
"Woah is me."
He's so different from Juno. She took a nail through her paw, never winced and and walked around gaily like nothing was wrong. Her hip dysplasia on film looks bad enough to disable any dog, but it doesn't phase her. She never shows any sign of pain even when she should. But just crinkling the wrapper from their monthly tick control medicine is enough to make Loki bolt from the room.
"Big boy, you're just a rough, tough, cream puff."
"Did woo say 'cream puff'? How come I don't taste any cream puff?"