Happy Birthday, Garold

Little Gary turned five today. Half a decade. He's back in Portland staying with my little sister and Jacob. In good hands. Going on a daily "carry" with them. More on that in a second.The image above is a Paint-By-Number masterpiece that Dad found for me in his travels. Spittin' image of the little man! Good find, pops.- - - -AS GOOD A TIME AS ANY: Over the last four years, you guys have sent in a million links regarding dachshund novelties, pictures and general well-wishing for the G-Unit. We thank you for your love, humor and support for the little man. I sure as hell appreciate it.With some sadness, I wanted to update all of you on the current status of Gary.Back in September, at the tail end of my summer Michigan visit, Gary had an accident.Mom, Dad, Leigh and I went into town to eat one last supper in Traverse City. When we came back out to the compound, the usual "greeting of the dogs" where the little shits run out to greet you in the driveway was missing one little man. We found Gary at the door, whimpering, unable to move.We did a quick check of his vitals, thinking it must've been something he ate. He wouldn't move, and seemed to be in pain, craning his neck up toward the ceiling slowly, oddly, and unable to lay down. We got him comfortable and waited it out that night.The next morning we ran him over to a local veterinarian who did a couple quick tests on him, touching his legs, pushing here and there and looked at us and said, "He's exhibiting the classic signs of a ruptured spinal disc." She did an x-ray and that confirmed her diagnosis.Just like that. The whole game changed.The little man rutpured a disc in his back, and it was cutting off the electricity to his back legs. In one word, he was "paralyzed."Paralyzed?Common in dachshunds, and other long dog breeds like Corgis, it turned out he had fused vertebrae and his little spine just kind gave out. The doc told us it was very common, and could happen in dachshunds anywhere from a year old to late, late old age. And, it could happen under moments of wild activity, violent spinal compression or, while simply sleeping.Basically, his number came up, and it kills me to write these words.A day after the injury, he had no movement in his back legs. He couldn't walk, and was in pain. We spent a couple more nights in Michigan, making calls to downstate surgeons, Gary's vets back in Portland and read countless spinal injury accounts on the web.We made the tough call to hightail it back to Portland. I had to get back for goddamn projects, Leigh was wrapping up her summer job, so we had a caravan racing west. What a hellride. Gary seemed to be comfortable, but couldn't control any "nature" processes.Once back in Portland, I got him in front of a doggy neurologist who administered a couple electrical tests to check his spinal activity, determining whether or not he would need surgery, or, be a candidate. Sometimes, they can fix these back injuries, and a couple months later, the dog would be back at it.Not the case with Gary. His rupture was pretty bad, and rather final, and the doc told us the surgery would be a long, long shot, and only recommended if he was in bad pain. He seemed to be okay for the most part, and after a couple more tests, our directions were to keep him motionless as much as possible, clean and loved for the next couple months. And to hope for the best.Back injuries in dachshunds are a common thing. You know, that length! There's all sorts of online support groups with tips, tales and tails regarding dachshund spinal injuries. The doc told us it was a manageable change, and if we were up to it, and could adapt to the new challenges, he could live a long life, albeit being paralyzed.Once healed, he'd adapt and begin scooting himself with his front legs. Then once he settled into the scooting thing, we could take him to get fitted for a little dachshund wheelchair cart. Then he could take walks, propelling himself with two legs and two wheels.And he's done just that. He zips around the house as fast as he can. It's just about the saddest fuckin' thing you ever saw, but the happiest thing too. He's adapting and I'm thankful as hell for that.The roughest part about the new Gary is the challenges with nature. He can't really control when nature calls, so you have to monitor him closely, and manually eliminate his bladder. He's like a little piss gun, kind of.The tootsie rolls come when they come, and we're getting better and better with the "No. 2 Department" regarding the little man.Let's just say we're like a little cleanup army, with wipes and spray bottles and a revolving cast of towels and doggie beds to keep the little man clean, fresh and as Gary'd as ever. Special thanks to Leigh for being a goddamned, decorated 4-Star General in the War Against His Little Rear End.Paralyzed? Nah. More like, "Garalyzed."Hell, he doesn't even know it. He's rolled himself down the stairs once, been caught on laptop cords, and folds his little legs underneath him every which way.This is "Gary 2.0" and we're gonna do our best to keep his little quality of life just as it was before the injury.He's still long, He's still loud. He still hates visitors when they show up, and still love them ferociously three minutes later. He's still Gary, but just a little less mobile.He's still ferociously cute, and sure, might smell like a New York City subway if you catch him on a bad day, but hell, a quick doggie bath remedies that one, and so it goes.He's cute as fuck all wrapped up in a towel. Facts are stubborn things.My sister Leah sent a picture of the little man all wrapped up in a blanket, on a "carry" with her and Jacob and their dog Obie, in their little Sellwood neighborhood. They carry him on Obie's walk, and lower him to sniff each bush and tree trunk along the way. He seems to be fine with it. This is the new Gary.Happy Birthday, Gare Bear. We got yer back, no pun intended. Whatever it takes, whatever it takes.