My Life as a Ham

I bet from that title everyone knows what this following post is all about. Me! You have to, once again, forgive my lengthy absence from the internetting world for I have been going through some trials and tribulations. As mentioned previously, the time had come to get my back left leg into working order, but it would require operative time. The honey-glazed ham wasn’t the only ham getting sliced this year! Speaking of, send me a slice of honey-glazed ham because that sounds delicious. In opposition to that thought, slicing the Hambone here was not a delicious endeavour. Instead, it was an endeavour laced with confusion and pain and pills. I am a dog and the concept of something opening me up and then putting me back together presents as a confounding series of events since most of my other animal friends with injuries just end up at the glue factory or get eaten by a Tyrannosaurus rex if they lived during the late Cretaceous period. For me, a new ligament was made from a piece of string and POW! The Hambone who once terrorized tennis balls, balloons, blankets, and really anything round-shaped is back! Now, it’s not as simple or short as that last sentence makes it appear because there were a few steps between 3 legged and four legged Ham. First, we had to drive to the place where my pool is located. Second, they had to bring me to the clean place where the cutting tools are located. Third, I fell asleep all of a sudden and then woke up looking like Dad when he gets home at 2AM on the weekends.

Freshly shaved and sliced Ham

Fourth, I had endure the throbbing pain in my leg that could only be mitigated by the sweet relief of modern medicine via pain pills. Fifth, peeing and pooping was terribly difficult when balancing on three good legs with the fourth one pounding worse than your 12 year old neighbor who got a new drumset for Christmas or Hannukah. Sixth, I had to be real amazing and recover like Birdman when he flies close to the Sun to get more energy because some villain has been beating him up real good to the point where he’s all woozy and can barely even say his own name and then he somehow falls upward towards the Sun like gravity all of a sudden reversed and then he comes screaming back down trumpeting “BIIIIIIIRDMAN!”. That was me. HAAAAAAAMMMBOOONE!

Look how stinking happy I am now!

-Hamstringed

A big thank you to all involved in my care, especially to José for being a great friend, businessman and hitter of golf balls (from what I’ve heard)

Do you understand how difficult it is to pinch pennies? Do you!? I try to mush the stupid thing between my paws, between my teeth, and I’ve even sat on that cold coin for hours to make some magic happen. I need opposable thumbs! With a thumb I could indicate my pleasure by pointing that bad boy skyward or show my displeasure by simply rotating my articulating wrist a solid 180° with that thumb firmly extended groundward. You must be asking what’s the deal with all of this penny pinching in the first place, right? Do I have a particular ire for Honest Abe and just want to squeeze his bearded Marfan’s face? Nope. I would squeeze it, but more like a mother squeezes a son’s face because I proud of that man. Am I trying to squish the penny into a one of those cool commemorative coins you may get at your local museum, amusement park or aquarium? Nope, but that’s a good idea. The official Hambone-squished collectible penny could be a serious money maker!

In all honesty, the penny pinching is just an effort to pay for my ongoing encounters with health maladies. What’s the deal with me!? The whole world loves the Hambone! It’s odd that the Hambone’s only enemy is the Hambone, no? You wouldn’t believe it if I told you, but my rear left engine went out this summer and will need to be fixed. Yup, the ol’ kicker finally lost its steam and will be joining the club for after-market modifications. Is my manly talk confusing you? Well, my back left leg will be going under the knife for a slight modification so it can act more like a leg rather than a dangling piece of Ham meat. Not only is my leg acting up, but my most beautiful mouth decided to rebel against me last week. Instead of giving the best kisses ever and eating the tastiest brown bits of food, my mouth was dangling open reminiscent of the late Roger Ebert. Hard food was impossible to eat and my attempts at drinking water were similar to an infant trying to eat soup with a spoon for the first time ever. Water, water everywhere, but not in my mouth! Mom brought me to some evil lady who prodded and poked me in regions I’d rather not discuss. This lady then made Mom and Dad force disgusting treats on me which only made me unhappy until they finally got it right and gave me some face-wrenchingly bitter treat that Dad called…um…pretzel zone? Sure, that sounds right. Anyway, those nasty things turned around this whole limp jaw game and my top and bottom teeth can reunite to crush the dreams of squeeky toys.

The world, again, is my oyster and I am going to eat it! This winter I’m also going to run all over the world with both of my rear engines in working order. For now, I’ll be searching under the cushions for coins, popcorn, and skittles!

-Hampro bone-o

Come on popcorn!

I bid you good winter, sirs and madams! Yes, the winter wind has returned to brush my belly with frigid kisses and freeze my paws with thorny icicles. The mercury has dropped to an almost unbearable level and the decrease in degrees always comes with a slight increase in my old knee pains. You may remember my account of how I tore up my back knees (I had some help from a jerk at a dog park), but you will not remember the rest of the story because I have not acquainted you with the remaining tale…until today! I find it to be a perfect time to tell stories as I lay in front of the fire that warms my bones. Some people think I sit too close to the fire for too long, but I say they are too wrong. Anyone smell something burning? Must be time to turn over. Back to my tale of woe!

I believe you last knew that my rear CCLs were both torn and any vigorous physical activity left me in limping pain for hours to days afterwards. My mom was in pain watching me in pain which made the pain worse because seeing her in pain reminds me that my pain is causing her pain and the circle never ends! Ooch, right? What were we to do? Luckily, Grandpa had some connections. In a swift matter of time, I was evaluated for surgical repair on my right knee and scheduled for surgery. Yikes! I’ve watched a lot of Scrubs, so I know a lot about medicine. Mainly, medicine is hilarious, useful and sometimes tragic. It’s mostly useful though and it occasionally requires you to break out into song. The date of my surgery was set and everyone was a little nervous. I would pace the house and constantly chew on balls or hide under blankets just to find some solace. I found it. The day came and some nice people put me to sleep, shaved my rear end and then fixed my leg with fishing line. I don’t remember any of that, but that’s what the surgeon relayed to me when I came to from the anesthesia. I wish I could have stayed asleep for the next few days because the pain was incredible. Look at me! Pitiful!

Post-surgical pity face

It was real pity, too. Not that stupid play on words because I’m part pit bull. It was honest to goodness pity. The next few days were a blur of sleep, pain meds, and personal service. My food was placed centimeters away from my face, I was carried up and down the stairs, and I was allowed to sleep anywhere. All of that would have been great if it didn’t feel like someone shaved my butt, cut my leg open and then tied a bunch of fishing line around my bones. Fortunately, things got better and then they got much better and then I was a super hero. Do you want to see me run and jump and swim and swim and swim and swim? I can do all of that now without the painful consequences. My left leg still gives me trouble and they say I’ll have to get that one fixed someday too, but I’m a pretty amazing 3.5 legged dog for now. Is that my horn tooting? Mom says I need to work on my humility. Shove it, Ma! I am the Hambone, the Ham of Ham and Potato, the Hambone whose hambone is connected to the hambone! I love exclamation points!!!!!! I love you, too.

-Hamility