Dad here; 0445 at the Casa del Whackos, and Charlie, as usual, has decided to get her lick on, but this one was different. Instead of her full bore facial assault, this one was a casual “sleepily swab the back of dad’s head” lick, just enough to wake me up, which of course was her sign to go back to sleep.
I saw that Charlie’s phone had new activity, so I snuck a peek and was amazed to find multiple messages in French. It reminded me of the beginning of her story when it first went viral; I had ruptured my colon in a relatively minor motorcycle incident shortly before we found Charlie’s crate, and as a result had been wearing a colostomy bag.
Those that have followed this page since the beginning have no doubt tried to forget the infamous poop storis of this particular era, horrible experiences, sure, but hilarious to recount today.
In March 2015, Charlie’s recovery was progressing nicely, and her story was burbling right along as I was feverishly awaiting the scheduled colostomy takedown operation and a blessed return to “normal”, if anything is ever normal when you pass fifty.
I was utterly dismayed when a freak snowstorm postponed the procedure for a few days, which might has well have been an eternity as far as I was concerned; you can ask mom, I’m NOT a very patient patient. It was during this four day interval that we witnessed the phenomena of divine intervention, or at least a good nudge from the Almighty, as Charlie’s story began to spread exponentially across the world. We would see a mass of messages from South America, then the focus would shift to somewhere in Europe, then Asia, then back to the states,then on to Australia, as if something was spreading the story around the world for us.
I’m a dog guy, but a guy nonetheless; I had no intention of ever teaching a goofy dog how to post on Facebook. I was just disgusted with the stories of abuse that social media loves to depress us with only to leave us hanging, and was determined that Charlie’s story would be different, focusing on her recovery instead of her injury and creating a slightky snarky refuge on the Web from the incessant crap being forced down our collective throats by those who would control us by fear and loathing.
(Deeeeeep breath; carry on)
Well, you all know how THAT has been working out; just when the flame seems to be dying down a bit, Somebody stirs the embers and it flares up again, as evidenced this morning by the plethora of posts from our friends the French. A more apt analogy might be that of a roller-coaster, click clack straining to make the next climb, only to hang for an eternity motionless at the apex…
…only to once again plunge faster than you would have previously thought imaginable.
So here we go again, but where are we going? Doesn’t really matter, just ask Charlie. What does matter to her is that we are GOING, the destination vague but the progress defined. Her message of inclusion, that we all matter and we all make a difference, applies to this page as well as to each of us; we all have a purpose, and all we can do is keep moving towards it, whatever “it” is.
See you on the road!