Remember John Cougar Mellancamp’s song from 1982 , “Hurts so Good”? Maybe it’s not that memorable, but there are times when I sing my own heartfelt version.
Last week I entered Dr. Judy’s office with another injury. I showed Judy my hand which had a strip seared across the back of it that snaked through the space between my pinkie and ring fingers. “It’s a friction burn. I think it’s infected”, I announced. “Hmm, how did this happen?”, Judy asked. Before I could answer, she spun in her chair as though a light bulb had gone off in her head, and directed her accusing remark to Opal who was passed out on the floor. “You again”. Opal raised her head and licked Judy’s foot in confirmation. “What happened this time?”, Dr. Judy asked in a tone of voice that challenged me to come up with something good. “Umm, it was just one of those things”, I began lamely. Then I jumped into assertive/rationalizing mode and tried to sell her on the idea that Opal and I have bad play Karma. I explained: ” She was on her Flexi retractable leash and took off. The rope crossed over my hand and…” Dr. Judy sighed, picked up her prescription pad and started to scrawl out an RX for an anti-biotic, musing out loud as she wrote. “Let’s see, first there was the egg-sized bump on the forehead from a canine-human cranial collision. Then there was the torn quad muscle. Wasn’t that another Flexi accident?” Judy asked. “Totally my fault”, I protested. “I only used the support cane for four days and I stopped limping after six weeks”. I shut up, thinking I should quit while I was ahead. At least Dr. Judy only gets to see the serious stuff. I don’t bother her with bruises and scratches that seem to happen on a regular basis when I play with Opal. It REALLY is my fault. I love roughhousing with her, and pay the consequences. But hey, It hurts so good.