{"id":4086,"date":"2014-10-20T07:37:09","date_gmt":"2014-10-20T14:37:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/?p=4086"},"modified":"2014-10-17T16:04:48","modified_gmt":"2014-10-17T23:04:48","slug":"case-of-the-broken-tail","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/case-of-the-broken-tail\/","title":{"rendered":"Case of the Broken Tail"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Scout_10-14-14\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Scout\u2019s tail never stops moving. In full \u201clove the one you\u2019re with\u201d Labrador enthusiasm, his otter tail is always thwacking his excitement.<\/p>\n

I grew up in a Southern California desert canyon <cue ominous Wild West whistling><\/em> fueled by the fire of 1,000 suns.<\/p>\n

It is a death valley of its own kind for lizards and lawns alike. My parents\u2019 house has plant potters housing baby palm trees. Lizards scale the basket \u2013 lured by the mirage of water amid the cool 95-degree autumn afternoons. Cacti stand in mocking triumph over the fallen.<\/p>\n

\"funny_cactus_by_sketchiest_ink-d5q8f1h\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Morning arrived. By 7 a.m. it was already warm and sticky. Odd, because the desert is known to radiate a dry heat. Also, I was in the kitchen.<\/p>\n

I flipped the lights on. I looked around. I was standing dead center on the set of an enraged Dexter scene. Blood spatter dotted the white tile floors. Oozing smears dripped down every cabinet surface.<\/p>\n

\"dexter-1920-1080-wallpaper\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Some kind of horrible event was clearly underway. I warily eyed the palm-tree planters just outside the French-door slider. Had the shrubbery grown tired of reptilian carnage and gone all Audrey II<\/a> in a quest to grow big and strong?<\/p>\n

Scout joined me at the scene of the crime. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. His tail slammed against me and the base of the breakfast nook. Obviously he was attempting to scare\u00a0off any nefarious flora or fauna still lurking about while I initiated a full investigation.<\/p>\n

But the blood kept coming. It was a west coast Amnityville Horror remake. At least I realized the dog rarely dies in horror flicks. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. My trusty guard dog clearly understood this as well.<\/p>\n

Oh. My. God. It was the dog.<\/p>\n

He had no idea. Was he really that dumb, or had he already bled out to the point of dying pain receptors. Was my sweet \u201cPinky\u201d<\/a> suddenly possessed by the spirit of Cujo?<\/p>\n

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. It was his tail. He was painting the kitchen with bloody excitement. By the time others arrived in the kitchen I was busy reenacting a much more macabre version of the Great Pudding-splosion<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Since there was no blood on his bed, I could only guess at an unfortunate unrequited love encounter with the rosebushes. Alas, every smack of his tail against a solid surface broke apart the burgeoning scab \u2013 reopening the wound and increasing indoor carnage.<\/p>\n

The poor pup was banished outdoors for the day. Not as punishment, but because the great wide open offered fewer scab-busting opportunities (other than then ground, which he enthusiastically set about thumping).<\/p>\n

Fourteen hours later, Scout was still bleeding. (He was also still blissfully unaware and thwacking away.)<\/p>\n

Despite the lack of danger, as evidence by his perpetual goofy grin, we decided it was time to continue our tour of California emergency vets. Because much like the number of licks to get to the center of a tootsie-pop, no one knows how many thwacks of a tail to bleed out.<\/p>\n

An old sock was wrapped around the wounded appendage. The old sock was promptly flung across the room with authority once Scout discovered his leash was out in the open. Adventure is out there!<\/p>\n

Apparently the exuberant canine pricked his tail in a rather precarious spot. And due to the large number of blood vessels in the waggy portion of the dog, every swish was propelling more blood out for an artsy Halloween decorated in the realism style.<\/p>\n

His injury was bandaged in a teal tail-condom and duct-taped down. (For all the judgey looks as we left the vet with a dopey dog \u2013 no, he did not have surgery to dock his tail.) He was also issued a standard cone-of-shame. However, in a lucky turn of events, Scout did not need to endure that particular humiliation. There was no danger of him getting to his own tail; I\u2019ve seen him chase it for hours on end before.<\/p>\n

Still warm outside, despite the late evening hour, Scout went in search of water upon his return. The water bowl lay in the shade of the backyard gazebo. A gazebo landscaped with a variety of cactus genera around the perimeter.<\/p>\n

\"Scout_Cactus_10-15-14\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Pokey, prickly, cacti. Right at thwacking height.<\/p>\n

Cacti \u2013 1
\nDog \u2013 0<\/p>\n

Although we may just need to add a spike to the weighted tail and he\u2019d be a great guard dog.<\/p>\n

\"guarddog<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Scout\u2019s tail never stops moving. In full \u201clove the one you\u2019re with\u201d Labrador enthusiasm, his otter tail is always thwacking his excitement. I grew up in a Southern California desert canyon <cue ominous Wild West whistling> fueled by the fire … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true},"categories":[997,638],"tags":[1715,1717,96,849,1714,1716,1718,1719],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p3Sbzi-13U","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":3792,"url":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/this-too-shall-pass-or-death-to-germs\/","url_meta":{"origin":4086,"position":0},"title":"This Too Shall Pass (or death to germs)","date":"March 6, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"\u2018Tis the season. The tail end of cold and flu that is. As well as the cornerstone of spring \u2013 a time that I\u2019ve spent the past four years battling the demons of \u201cwhat if.\u201d And then something amazing happened. Last weekend the muppets had a play date with their\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Daycare"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":4364,"url":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/a-short-story-the-california-drought-day-1643\/","url_meta":{"origin":4086,"position":1},"title":"A Short Story \u2013 The California Drought, Day 1,643","date":"July 28, 2015","format":false,"excerpt":"Once lush green stalks of tall grass glowed an angry red, as though they had been sunburned instead of merely water deprived. I always presumed I would see plumes of yellow during the deep dog-days of summer, as the plants prepared for winter and reminded me to take hay fever\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Current Events"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/07\/IMG_3103-300x200.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":3478,"url":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/out-of-the-mouths-of-babes-2\/","url_meta":{"origin":4086,"position":2},"title":"Out of the Mouths of Babes","date":"July 26, 2013","format":false,"excerpt":"Happy Friday. It\u2019s time for the latest installment of the honest truth \u2013 toddler style. Search: Mommy doesn't have brown eyes. Mommy has weird eyes. (Green. My eyes are green, kid.) Me: No splashing. Destroy: That was Mater. Me: Haha, I\u2019m pretty sure you just splashed your toy in the\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Seriously?"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.streamdoubletrouble.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/11\/SuccessKid-297x300.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":4150,"url":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/the-paper-plate-turkey\/","url_meta":{"origin":4086,"position":3},"title":"The Paper Plate Turkey","date":"December 4, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"Gramma J is a big fan of educational activities. So, as the mercury rose above 90 on Thanksgiving Day, Gramma pulled out the Preschooler\u2019s Busy Book. I was immediately taken with this book and had high hopes \u2013 it\u2019s the only activity book for the younger set that features accurate\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Food"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/Paper-Plate-Turkey-225x300.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":2757,"url":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/anatomy-of-a-toddler-temper-tantrum\/","url_meta":{"origin":4086,"position":4},"title":"Anatomy of a Toddler Temper Tantrum","date":"August 29, 2012","format":false,"excerpt":"\u201cDoggie eats poop,\u201d announced a very awake muppet. This was going to be a long night. After two hours of chasing tail (haha), summersaults and \u201cHey Mommy! Watch This!\u201d the witching hour grew nigh. Bedtime. Destroy was displeased with this development. With the single phrase \u2013 \u201cTime to go night\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Destroy"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":4147,"url":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/communication-confusion-and-when-94-is-a-flunking-grade\/","url_meta":{"origin":4086,"position":5},"title":"Communication Confusion and When 94 is a Flunking Grade","date":"December 1, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"I was just finishing up a project after spending the wee hours of the morning driving down to Gramma and Papa\u2019s house. I signed off, \u201cWithout further ado\u2026\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t you mean adieu?\u201d inquired Gramma J. Did I? Ah, mother. \u201cWhen you depart from me sorrow abides and happiness takes his\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Family Stories"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/Caden_Sick_11-26-14-225x300.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4086"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4086"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4086\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4086"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4086"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/streamoftheconscious.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4086"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}