When
I’m alone and in pain, I tend to swear a lot.
It’s
okay, I tell myself, generally no one is around
to
hear. And, for me at least, it helps a little bit.
My
dogs understand a few commands, but seem
oblivious
to the cuss words I use, until the other
day
as I yelled, Shit!, when hobbling into the living
room.
And my older dog sat as if by command. No,
No,
I said, Shit, not sit! And in looking around on the
carpet,
I saw my pup did that too. Picking up the mess
with
a paper towel caused pain and I groaned, Damn
it!
And the little fellow came up to me. No, No, I said
again,
your name is, Apollo, not Damn it! I now see
why
cursing gets a bad wrap. I try my best to use Damn
it
more often now; Shit, not so much even though it hurts
like
a Son-of-a-bitch when I have to bend over. Apollo puts
his
tail between his legs when I say S.O.B. (He knows from
where
he comes.) Instead of profanity, I tried using, Good
Boy,
once. I found it didn’t help the pain all that much.
-30-
Chris
Hanch 2-21-2020
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