Abracadabra!

So I've discovered a trick to disguise the fact that Paco is practically naked from the waist down. Just add shirt and, voila!

Studies have shown that the human mind is good at "creating stories" that make sense when there's missing information. For instance, the reason we always fall for the woman getting cut in half trick.

In another study, they had a stranger go up and ask for directions. While giving directions, two construction workers carrying a large sheet of plywood would walk in between the two people and the direction-asker would be switched out for a new person. In almost every case, the direction-giver never noticed the switch, even when the new asker was a completely different race. The theory is that the brain just reasoned away any inconsistency and filled in the gaps. For instance, "Huh, I thought he looked different when we first started talking. Oh well, I'm just unobservant."

So, since I've had Paco in the shirt, nobody's noticed his hairless ass.

[To be fair, it is growing back. . . slowly. There have been two comments in 24 hours to substantiate this. Last night Aaron said, "It's not so disturbing anymore," and today Jane said, "It's looking a lot fuzzier," so we're making progress]

My dog has no pants

So SFGATE just started a "Pets" section because, you know, pets are important. Since the option to write your own blog was available, I decided to take advantage and write about my favorite subject: Paco.

My dog has no pants.
Posted 5/12/2008 4:49 PM PDT

Recently my dog underwent TPLO surgery. For those of you unfamiliar with our story I urge you to read up on it here.

So, while I commend the medical staff at Berkeley Dog and Cat for prepping us for just about every post-op obstacle out there, they failed to address some secondary complications. For instance, the public embarrassment.

Right now it looks like my dog has no pants.

This was fine when I had to carry him down the stairs, help him walk with a sling, and have him confined to a crate or tie down 24/7. If anything, the fresh shave job emphasized the fact that he was crippled. It brought his pathetic state to a new level and squeezed sympathy out of even the most hardened hearts.

But now we've been cleared for light exercise. This means we get to start taking walks again, Paco can come in the car, and life begins to return to normal. The only problem is that nobody seems to have told his butt the news. It looks as pathetic and naked as before. And the fact his muscles have atrophied due to 6 weeks of no exercise only brings the point home.

Call me shallow, but I take pride in how my dog looks. I keep his weight down, his muscle tone up, and deck him out in fancy collars. When we roll down the street, I'm used to people hanging out the windows and yelling, "That's a nice lookin' dog!" and, if I'm lucky, they add, "and you ain't too bad yourself!"

But that's over now. I see people eyeballing us, as we make our slow return into the public realm of the street. I see their reactions as they take us in, get excited and prime themselves to hoot and holler, and then their faces fall as they try and make sense of the naked behind as it comes into full view. I can only wonder what's going through their heads since, to a lot of folks, the idea of surgery on a dog is ludicrous.

I suppose we have to choice until it grows in. Until then, I think I'll make him wear his pants more often:

Poor Paco

Everyone's going to the beach this weekend. Well, everyone except Paco. After careful consideration, it seemed like a better idea to just leave the little guy at home rather than bring him to his favorite place in the world and then not let him enjoy it.

I swear he can tell. The pout on his face is almost as big as the time I made him get in the Animal Control truck.

Call me cruel but it's still my favorite threat when he's acting naughty. Hey, my mom always threatened to send me away to the gypsies so it's in the blood. . .

Water Dog

So yesterday we went to the vet for Paco's 6 week post-op check up. Not only was his healing just where it should be, but the doc cleared him for up to 1 hour walks several times a day. . . woohoo!

Obviously, he's not there yet, we'll have to build his muscle back up, but today marked the beginning of our guy's comeback (he was too high from x-ray sedatives to do much of anything yesterday except look pathetic).

A recent road trip to Seattle yielded a genuine cattle-sized watering trough, one I recognized right away would make a perfect Paco sized hydrotherapy tank. Today was a beautifully sunny day so we decided to give it a go. Nothing tells a story like pictures, so here goes:

Jade and Dango moving the tank into a strategic location (aka. out of the way)

Paco suits up with safety in mind

Awaiting the dunk. . . not amused.

D-u-n-k!

Fear

The tub fills with water

Paco begins to float and kick his legs

The moment Paco realizes he's floating and trapped

Panic

Determination

Resignation (notice the lack of frantic splashing. . . he's finally in a groove and swimming steadily)

Putting the whole ordeal behind him

It was so much fun we decided to give Mae Mae a turn. . . what can we say, if you're a regular dog visitor at the studio you are subjected to a certain amount of torture (and my jeans were already soaked).

She has no idea what's about to hit her

DUNK!

In the groove

Paul demonstrating how Mae Mae keeps moving her legs even when levitated above the water. . . what a weirdo.

None of the animals in this post suffered permanent damage and some of them got to cuddle next to a heater the rest of the day.