The monkey made me do it

Paranoia is fun

Where most normal-sized dogs have one torso, Rooster has about 2.75 torsos all strung together and jointed in a way that is strangely reminiscent of those snake-on-a-stick plastic wiggly toys that you hated to get at the carnival because they were usually a step behind the stuffed animal nirvana you could have achieved by popping one... more... balloon.

Bastard carnies.

The hassle with having such a torsonic excess (shut up, it COULD be a word)(English is an ever-adapting language) is that when Rooster wants to climb on the couch next to you, it becomes somewhat of a production. It begins with the WHUMP of his head, chest, and giraffe-proportioned front paws as they land roughly on or near your head. After a couple of enthusiastic face-licks to convey how excited he is to have gotten that far, Rooster tries to roll over onto his side and wiggle the rest of him up onto the couch. Usually the roll is attempted while still partially on the now-winded previously solo couch inhabitant, so the flailing elbows and rib cage can add all sorts of fun (read: bruises) to the experience. If a miracle happens and his hindquarters make it up onto the sofa before either a.) he is kicked off by the couch-holder for inflicting injury, or b.) he wiggles himself off and thuds onto the floor, he usually gets distracted again and immediately hops off to wrestle with Monkey.

He made it up last week while I was reading (I had to help him, it was sad) and uncharacteristically rolled over on his back next to me and let me scratch his tummy. I was thrilled at the change and scratched away while half-continuing to read, until the following thought process occurred:

"Hey, this is great! He's not hyper or trying to lick me! He's just lying there!"
"He's never done this before! Great!"
"Wait a minute. He's never done this before."
"Why isn't he bounding off in his ADD-induced puppy madness? Is he sick?"
"Oh my, I think he's sick. He hasn't moved in a while."
"I bet he hurt something trying to wiggle up here."
"He broke his spine, that's it. He broke his spine."
"If I poke at his paw and he doesn't move it, he broke his spine."
"Was that a move? I don't think that was a move."
"Now he's mad at me. Better tummy-scratch some more."
"It still doesn't count, he could have broken the bottom half of his spine."
"I'll just poke at his back feet a little."
(sound of more apologetic scratching)
"Maybe he broke his tail. I bet he broke his tail."
"Why is his head crooked like that and his eyes closed?"
"Omigod he broke his head."

Then he started snoring loudly and drooled a nice little spot on the couch, and after a half-hour or so of bliss, reversed his wiggle-roll-flop and casually sauntered over to the dog bed for some serious sleepage.

posted by LadyJay @ 9:07 AM