Saturday, 17 February 2018

Off The Cuff.

Hi there!  Yes, it's actually me, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar's human dad, Gary.

Before I attempt to type any further, I wish to thank Penny for having taken over the blog whilst I've been trying to sort out my latest physical issue.  It's been an ongoing, frustrating time.  Having recovered from the "tit" growing on my right elbow aka, bursitis, I'm now contending with an even more aggravating situation.

I believe my even more aggravating situation stems from getting into an exercise regime.  I may well have been a bit too enthusiastic with the exercise regime which involved using a vibrator.  I'll rephrase that.  I may well have been a bit too enthusiastic with my exercise regime which involved using a vibrating machine.

For the last two months, my left shoulder has been putting me through agony.  Just when I thought the pain had subsided, it would come back with a vengeance.  Thus, last Monday I finally gave up thinking the pain would just magically go away.  I went and saw a doctor.  She told me, based on checking my left shoulder, it was very likely a dislocated rotator cuff.

I'm now waiting to see a physiotherapist.  That's great because right now it takes about a week to put my coat on.  A weird wriggling manoeuvre that involves me attempting to raise my left arm up and slithering said left arm in to what is hopefully the left arm on my coat.  Thankfully, Penny waits patiently as I try to get my coat on so she can take me out for a walk.

Speaking of therapists, I recall when I started working for a mental health charity and I was introduced to the staff.  I asked this one staff member what her job was.  She told me she was a complimentary therapist.  To which I responded, "Excellent!  So pay me a compliment."  Thought I'd chuck in this paragraph, what with this post being somewhat off the cuff and bordering on disjointed, rather like my left shoulder.

Of course, despite it all, I somehow know I'm going to be okay.  I just focus on how grateful I am to have adoring fans.  Here's one of my adoring fans in the above photo.

It started with an elbow tit
I must admit
It continued with a wrecked-up rotator cuff
Aint that tough
I've had enough
I feel rough
From all this stuff
Physiotherapy
I shall see
If it works for me
I should mention
I've switched off the comment section
I hope you understand
Hard to type using just my right hand.

Sunday, 4 February 2018

I Took My Human Dad For A Walk.

Hi there!  Yes, once again, it's me, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!  Although my human dad, Gary, has just about recovered from the trapped nerve in his left shoulder, I told him, after he begged me, that I'd do another pawst.  So, here it is.....

When I took my human dad for a walk yesterday morning, he ended up chatting to this lady who was out walking with her very young Dalmatian dog.  I could spot her dog a mile away. 

"Gary", the lady stated, "I have some excellent news.  Our furry friend is becoming very obedient.  He can roll over, sit, stay, beg, shake a paw and the really great news is that he's no longer crapping on the carpets!"  "That's wonderful", my human dad replied.  "Enough about your boyfriend.  How's the dog doing?" 


Thursday, 1 February 2018

Inner Child Meets Inner Puppy.

Hi there!  Yes, it's me again, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!  While my human dad is still not quite recovered from the trapped nerve in his left shoulder, I've taken the liberty to put up another pawst. 
Keep listening to your inner child as I keep listening to my inner puppy.

My doggy heart beats with the hope that humans learn the lessons we animals try to share.  The lessons that teach of non-judgemental, unconditional love. 

Pawsitive wishes,

Penny 

Tuesday, 23 January 2018

Oh Nos To Schmackos!

Hi there!  Yes, it's me, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!

I asked my human dad, Gary, as to why he hasn't done another pawst this year.  He replied, "Oh Penny!  Please, please, please, would you be so kind as to do an article?  I've got a trapped nerve in my left shoulder, Penny.  It's starting to feel better after nearly two weeks of feeling like I have a toothache in my left shoulder!  However, it's still difficult to type something."

Thus, my friend on the other side of the computer screen, here I be.  I don't mind taking over the peeboard.  Start again, I don't mind taking over the keyboard and pawblishing one of my must-read pawsts.
No automatic alt text available.

About a month ago, Gary was sitting on the chair in the living room.  He was munching away on some snacks.  "Oh yuck!  What the hell!?", Gary yelled.  This was followed by him making a mad dash to the kitchen sink.  I can vividly recall the ensuing puking type sound.

About five minutes before Gary freaked out, he had gone to an unlit kitchen and had grabbed a snack from the counter.  He thought the salami tasted kinda' odd.  Ah yes, human dad, Oh nos to Schmackos!  






Thursday, 11 January 2018

A Sobering Thought.

I sincerely hope that you are settling in nicely to the year that is Two Thousand and Eighteen.  It has taken me eleven days to actually concentrate enough to do a posting.

This year is a milestone for me.  Or, if you speak in metric, a kilometrestone for me, I suppose.  For, as of June eighteen, it will be exactly twenty years since I last consumed alcohol.  Twenty years since I got stretchered out of my home and rushed to hospital.  But hey, who's keeping track.

On the actual date of my twentieth anniversary, I shall put up a harrowing yet uplifting post to mark an occasion that I hope may well give hope to those who think it's hopeless to even attempt to combat addiction and the underlying causes.

Even now, after all these years, I'm still raw with the pain I caused to others and to myself.  To this very day, I'm an extreme combination of fragility and resilient strength.  I've spent nearly twenty years trying to compensate, to prove to those that I love, to myself, that I could seek out and find the good man that had been hidden away during those frightening days of alcohol abuse. 

If somebody had told me, as I lay in a hospital bed, on the verge of death, that twenty years later I'd be writing about how I defeated alcohol, I'd of never believed them.

When I left hospital, I had two choices.  I could of chosen to continue drinking and die a painful, agonising death or choose the exhilarating freedom of being sober.  I chose freedom.