Two of the residents of my household are suffering from serious ear infections. They're both walking around with their left ears cocked to one side and are having some balance problems. I've got ear medicine for both of them and the treatment is beginning to work. But wouldn't you know it, the patients are Quinn and Dodger - the two residents who HATE to be touched.
I'm really surprised the neighbors haven't called animal control on me (of course I'd probably be the one answering the phone so it doesn't matter). I corner Dodger and she starts screeching like a banshee while I hold her down and put the medicine in her ears. Then I have to lock Eli and Avery into their crates and listen to them scream while I chase Quinn around the house trying to corner him and get the medicine into his ears.
Of course they might be a tad more cooperative if I didn't laugh at them so much. Poor Dodger tries to jump from the floor to the back of the couch but the vertigo takes over about halfway between. She usually ends up bouncing off the back of the couch and running along it trying to figure out which way is up. And poor Quinn starts to shake his head and his back end goes out from under him; then he can't get up. Every try to hoist a dog that doesn't like to be touched up off of the floor? Not a recommended form of exercise!
I'm still trying to get a picture of the pair of them with their ears sticking out to one side, it is really cute to see.
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack. – Rudyard Kipling "For a long while I have believed...that in every generation there are a few souls, call them lucky or cursed, who are simply born not belonging, who come into the world semi-detached, if you like, without strong affiliation to family or location or nation or race; that there may even be millions, billions of such souls, as many non-belongers as belongers, perhaps; that, in sum, the phenomenon may be as "natural" a manifestation of human nature as its opposite, but one that has been mostly frustrated, throughout human history, by lack of opportunity.
And not only by that: for those who value stability, who fear transience, uncertainty, change, have erected powerful system of stigmas and taboos against rootlessness, that disruptive, anti-social force, so that we mostly conform, we pretend to be motivated by loyalties and solidarities we do not really feel, we hide our secret identities beneath the false skins of those identities which bear the belongers' seal of approval.
But the truth leaks out in our dreams...: alone in our beds (because we are alone at night, even if we do not sleep by ourselves), we soar, we fly, we flee. And in the waking dreams our societies permit, in our myths, our arts, our songs, we celebrate the non-belongers, the different ones, the outlaws, the freaks.
What we forbid ourselves, we pay good money to watch, in a playhouse or movie theatre, or to read about between the secret covers of a book. Our libraries, our palaces of entertainment tell the truth. The tramp, the assassin, the rebel, the thief, the mutant, the outcast, the delinquent, the devil, the sinner, the traveller, the gangster, the runner, the mask: if we did not recognize in them our least-fulfilled needs, we would not invent them over and over again, in every place, in every language, in every time." – Salman Rushdie