Last Saturday night about midnight-ish, I took Wembley out for a walk and all was normal (the pee was flowing, the poop was plopping. Good times … good times.) and then for no reason he started limping, favoring his right front leg. I checked between his pads for burrs or foxtails, but nothing was to be found. and after we got in the house I probed and prodded his muscles and joints and tendons but couldn’t get a reaction out of him. Over the next few days his limp would get worse and then all but disappear but, honestly, the only thing sadder than a limping dog is a 55-pound limping dog with four-inch legs. So unattractive.

Tuesday morning about 3Am he couldn’t seem to get comfortable enough to sleep and I thought he wanted to go out (he did) and while walking I noticed that the limp had become  much more pronounced so it was off to the vet the next day where, as I suspected, he was diagnosed with soft tissue damage.  I don’t know how it happened, but I did learn that dogs have biceps. Who knew? Now he’s on anti-inflammatories and bed rest, which is the natural habitat of bassets, and I have to be ever vigilant in keeping him from launching himself off of the bed when someone comes home or it’s time to eat  or time to go for a walk or he thinks he hears someone in the kitchen because THAT IS WHERE THE FOOD IS. FOOD!

So now, having moved from being called Wembley to ‘Wobbly’ due to his occasional seizures (only one in the past eleven weeks. Woot!), we call him “Stumbley” because we are cruel that way.

The end.