Saturday morning started out like any regular lazy Saturday at our house. We had an early morning planned for Sunday, so we decided that we’d take it easy Saturday and just let things happen at their own pace. We ate breakfast in our pajamas and enjoyed watching a movie. I should have known that karma would bite me for that.
I got in the shower and started to get ready in case something came up that we wanted to go do. As I was getting dressed, I suddenly heard Bunny start to whimper which escalated into the full blown Greyhound Scream of Death in about .02 milliseconds. Forget the scary movies we rented for the weekend, nothing can get your heart pumping like that sound! I raced across the hall to the living room to see what was wrong with her as my husband struggled to get out of his chair to get to her.
Of course Morgan, ever vigilant, beat both of us to her side. She stood there looking concerned and as if she might be wishing for opposable thumbs. As I knelt down beside her, Bunny put her head up to me, seeming relieved and Mr. Taleteller led Morgan to her crate so that we could actually get to Bunny and try to figure out what was wrong. Morgan was not happy with that turn of events and let it be known.
With both of us kneeling beside her, Bunny quieted and laid still. Hubby began to feel her back and rear legs in an attempt to see if she was injured. As he slid his hand over her, Bunny tried to get up again and began the piteous screams anew. Morgan warned us from the crate that her Bunny had best be left unharmed. I petted Bunny a bit and we massaged her spine and she relaxed and laid still.
Soon, we decided that we’d try to get her up again. This time, the princess stood and leaned her head against my chest as Mr. Taleteller worked his magic from a class he took a few years ago on her back. She stretched a few times and leaned against me. Mr. Taleteller and I looked at her and then the bed to see if we could determine the cause of the problem. That’s when we figured it out. There was a wrinkle on the bed that no doubt pinched her royal behind when she moved just so. A wrinkle caused all that fuss and two humans to nearly have heart failure. Hubby let Morgan out of the crate and she rushed over to do her own inspection, even pushing me away from Bunny at one point. I guess we weren’t the only ones who were scared witless.
This is not the first time a wrinkle has bothered Bunny, but usually the problem happens when we try to move her across our bed, against her stubborn will, as we try to get into our spots. It is the first time she’s pinched herself on a wrinkle on the bed. I think living with the Princess and the Pea would be easier! I am left reminding myself that the Greyhound Scream of Death is reserved for trivial injuries while serious ones are met with incredible stoicism.
Has anybody else out there been scared by something with their dog that turned out to be a really minor thing? How is there not an Oscar for Best Canine Performance every year?