White Dog said, "Admit it! Nuka is not the most graceful ballerina in the Corps de Ballet, momma!" "Another White Dog marches to a different drummer, true," I conceded, "but she comes with gutsyness and determination like beloved Dumbo the elephant in the Disney movie you all enjoy so much! Besides I can kind of relate personally."
Our Nuka, 12 and arthritic on top of lacking the ability to float and swoop, is in her mind a lithe and nimble fawn able to skim over obstacles and jump effortlessly. She is famous in our house for launching herself (out of her crate, out of your arms, off the bed), flying like an all akimbo ragdoll, and landing flat on her belly some respectable distance away. She, in fact, has been Oso's flight instructor (unfortunately).
Her impatience to get around, rather over, a napping member of the White Dog Army often ends with her straddling the back of the freshly awakened sibling, neither party very happy.
This afternoon I heard a faint mewling coming from the office, where the window is open, and thought there was a cat on the backyard wall. It repeated itself and Puff came out of the room and looked at YoYoMa, which is what caught MY attention. He followed Puff, and was in turn followed by White Dog who no doubt thought she better keep the two from mischief.
The squeaks became a howl as Puff, Yo and WD all rushed into the living room to let me know I needed to come...NOW! (I love when our lives are like an old Lassie episode). I dutifully followed my Pack into the office.
There was Nuka on her back with her legs flailing like an upturned beetle, stuck in the "V" of the arms in the wheeled base of my office chair and trapped from maneuvering by my desk. She could not right herself and poor thing was in such a rolling panic that she had wet herself.
It would have been funny had she not been so pathetic...and grateful to be untangled. While the White Dogs, stifling their giggles, went out to the yard to tell Steve, I held the panting girl (who is still just bones) and attempted to calm her.
Steve walked in and I asked him to draw a bath so we could do cleanup. Nuka, who loves that attention, saw the towels being gathered and (before I could gently set her down) catapulted herself out of my lap. Once she struggled to her feet and shook off the impact, she happily headed off to a relaxing bubble bath.