Of canine birthdays and bad days

My friend Chalan recently introduced me to But Poorly Drawn pet portraits. This is Luka in her poorly drawn form still a beauty in my eyes. FYI: If you want a Poorly Drawn pet portrait, they are only $5 and help the artist fund other charitable work by providing similar portraits of animals needing adoption. Check them out: https://butpoorlydrawn.com/.

I called The Weed in a panic last week.

I was at the park one afternoon with Luka and Layla, and Luka got hurt.

She was chasing a ball when she fell and screamed like I’ve never heard an animal scream before. She then tried to stand but couldn’t put any weight on her left front leg.

She was scared and shaking. I was scared and shaking. Layla was undeterred, running around the park like Florida man with a tennis ball.

I was sure Luka had broken her leg.

So, rather than comforting her and sitting with her, I called my husband in a panic.

• The Weed: <TentativeAnswer> ‘Hello?’

• Me: ‘I’m at the park. Luka is hurt. Badly. I think she broke her leg and people are staring at us like I just Lizzie Borden’d her.’

• The Weed: ‘I don’t know who that is. What do you want me to do?’

• Me: ‘You work five minutes from here. Come pick us up. Please. And, try to act as normally as possible. Like this happens all the time. I think someone just called the cops.’

• The Weed: ‘OK. I’m on the way. I’ll bring bail.’

In the time it took him to arrive at the park, I had wrangled Layla; Luka started taking tentative steps on her own, limping and wincing; and my hands had stopped shaking off my wrists.

We lifted both dogs into his car, (white leather upholstery be damned!) and drove a few blocks home.

Once home, Luka limped into the house and went directly to her comfy dog bed.

Layla stormed in and drank all the water in her bowl like she’d just returned from a successful Viking raid.

Layla's Poorly Drawn image. You can really see her inner Florida man here.

The Weed headed back to work.

And, I … well, I sat at my desk and reminded myself why I don’t work in emergency medicine. I suspect most ER personnel don’t routinely call their husbands to help them out of a jam.

It took a few days but slowly Luka started feeling better. Walking more normally and generally being her happy, barky little self.

We returned to the park yesterday with The Weed in tow and enjoyed some successful rounds of fetch. No one was terribly injured. The deer flies did do some damage to me and The Weed, though.

So, today, we will celebrate Luka’s fourth birthday with a few toy surprises, some tasty treats, and relief in knowing even during the scariest of times I can rely on my family to be true to form.

Luka = Quiet, capable, strong.

Layla = Deadpool in dog’s clothing.

The Weed = Just one phone call away. Always.