🐾 Luna’s Friday Takeover: Big Sister Business, Mr. Moo & the Sacred Art of Boll

—

12–17 minutes

To read

One week of puppyhood, two weeks of healing, an old friend finding her way back to the Den, and one Service Dingoā„¢ discovering that a growing pack doesn’t mean anyone has to become smaller.

Content Note: This post mentions surgery recovery, chronic illness, disability, medical alert work, seizures, migraines, and service-dog tasks, alongside an irresponsible amount of puppy content.

Welcome to The Crippled Cryptid.

Disability, chronic illness, service dogs, and survival without the performance.

If you’re new here, hi.

I’m Luna Bean.

Medical alert service dog.
Certified Good Girl.
Official Big Sisterā„¢.
Full-time nervous system supervisor.

Mama’s body is very dramatic.

My job is to notice before it steals the spotlight.

I alert to migraines.
Seizures.
Heart rate spikes.
Muscle spasms.
And any vibes suspicious enough to deserve a second opinion.

I interrupt spirals.

I apply Deep Pressure Therapy like it’s a sacred ritual.

Because you know something?

It is.

I’m also learning to retrieve the things Mama drops when her hands stop cooperating.

Some call me a dog.

Others call me medical equipment.

Mama calls me her freedom.

I consider myself a very important partner.

Personally, I think Mama is my sidekick.

Mama says I have ā€œMain Character Energy.ā€

Whatever the fluff that means.

Most days move slowly.

Some happen from Bed Jailā„¢.

That’s fine.

I’m excellent at staying close and making sure Mama doesn’t drift too far away from herself.

There’s also M&M.

Mama #2.

Belly-rub giver.
Treat-giver.
Emotional support human.

She belongs to both of us.

Then there’s the Yard Yeti.

Mama’s little brother.

My best friend.

Still somehow the tallest creature in the house.

The one who yells ā€œLULUS!ā€ every single time he sees me.

Which means, naturally, he gets the most bork.

The most boing.

And the most tail waggies.

That’s the law.

And now?

I have a baby brother.

His name is BlitzĆø.

Also known as Blitzy.

Also known as the Potatoā„¢.

Also, apparently, known as Mr. Moo now.

We’ll get to that.

But our pack doesn’t end there.

It’s been growing a lot lately.

With four paws.

With people.

With love finding its way back through the door.

All of those things are good.

This space is for chronic illness without shame.

Disability without performance.

Care without conditions.

And yes.

There will be fur.

If you’ve been here before, welcome back.

If you’re new, you’re safe here.

Welcome to the Lunatic CafƩ.

On today’s menu: Friday Takeover!

🐾 HI! HELLO! IT’S FRIDAY!

Sit.

Stay.

Yup.

It’s Friday again.

And you already know what that means.

Take a seat.

Grab your water if you haven’t had any today.

And get yourself a snack, too, because we believe fed is best in this household.

Whatever fed looks like today.

A whole meal.

A granola bar.

Something you assembled.

Something you microwaved.

Something you ate directly out of the package while standing in the kitchen because getting a plate felt like too many steps.

It counts.

Because there is always room for you in the Den.

And this week?

We have some very important business to discuss.

Two milestones, actually.

Mama has officially crossed the two-week mark since surgery.

And I have officially survived my first full week as a… Big Sisterā„¢.

I would like recognition for both accomplishments.

🩹 MAMA IS STILL HEALING, EVEN WHEN IT FEELS SLOW

Mama is two weeks out from surgery.

She would like healing to move faster.

I know this because I have ears.

And eyes.

And because sometimes Mama makes the face.

You know the face.

The one humans make when their bodies refuse to follow the schedule they invented in their heads.

But I have been supervising.

Closely.

And here is my professional medical opinion:

Healing is still healing, even when it is slow.

Mama might not be where she wanted to be by now.

But she is farther than she was.

Bruises change.

Movements get a little easier.

Some things still hurt.

Some days still ask too much.

And sometimes the correct treatment plan is Bed Jailā„¢, snacks, medication, hydration, and one highly qualified cattle dog stationed nearby.

Or ignoring your phone when it’s not helping you heal.

Conveniently, I am available.

Recovery does not become less real because it takes longer than you hoped.

Progress does not stop counting because it arrives in tiny pieces.

I keep reminding Mama of this.

Mostly by staring at her.

Very intensely.

It’s therapeutic.

šŸ„” ONE WHOLE WEEK OF POTATO

The other very important milestone?

It has officially been a whole week… and a few bonus days… since my little brother came home.

His government name is BlitzĆø.

The Ćø is silent unless Mama is mad at him.

Then I believe every letter becomes audible.

He is also called:

Blitzy.

Potatoā„¢.

Binky.

Binker.

Sir Binkerton.

And now, apparently…

Mr. Moo.

He has already learned a LOT.

Bath time?

Fun.

Nail clippers?

Not scary.

Mealtimes?

Excellent.

Treats?

Possibly the greatest invention humans have ever produced.

And the doggy door?

CONQUERED.

I have watched him go from Tiny Confused Potato Who Does Not Understand Architecture to Tiny Confident Potato Who Can Enter and Exit the House.

Growth.

Development.

Education.

I am an excellent Big Sisterā„¢.

Obviously.

šŸŽ“ THE BIG SISTER CURRICULUM

Mama says our next order of business is going for a…

W-A-L-K.

She spells it because she thinks I don’t know what that means.

I do.

I have allowed her to continue believing otherwise because sometimes humans need little victories.

Blitzy is going to start learning about walks.

And he’s going to get his first proper car ride with us!

I LOVE car rides.

So naturally, I hope he understands immediately that Vehicle Time is a prestigious pack activity.

There are windows.

There are smells.

There are Placesā„¢.

Sometimes there are drive-thru treats.

It is an advanced cultural experience.

But before he can become a fully educated member of society, there is one subject of enormous importance.

Boll.

Naturally, I am teaching him boll.

For those unfamiliar with the curriculum:

Boll is life.

Boll is joy.

Boll is sacred.

Boll is something Mama throws approximately four hundred times less often than she should.

Blitzy is still learning.

Sometimes he understands boll.

Sometimes he understands chomp Luna.

We are working on the distinction.

He is a baby.

I am patient.

Mostly.

šŸŽƒ AN IMPORTANT DEVELOPMENT IN PUPPY CUISINE

There is one additional event from this week that must be entered into the official record.

Mama brought us something called:

Pup Cup in a Can.

Pumpkin flavor.

Made especially for dogs.

Now, normally I take my responsibilities as a medical alert service dog very seriously.

I am composed.

Professional.

Highly trained.

Capable of detecting suspicious nervous-system nonsense before Mama even knows her body has begun plotting something.

But I am also capable of recognizing when something is delicious.

And friends?

This was delicious.

Blitzy agreed.

Enthusiastically.

Possibly with his entire face.

I believe enrichment is important.

I believe hydration is important.

I believe proper nutrition is important.

I also believe that sometimes you should be handed a pumpkin-flavored snack simply because you are a Very Good Dog who has endured an entire week of having a younger sibling.

These beliefs can coexist.

🧔 MAMA NOTE: One of my favorite things about having two dogs now is getting to watch Luna experience familiar little joys with Blitzy beside her.

She already knows what treats are.

She knows special snacks.

She knows the sound of something opening in the kitchen that might potentially concern her.

Blitzy is still discovering all of it.

There’s something ridiculously sweet about watching his world get bigger one tiny experience at a time, especially when Luna gets to be there showing him that this is what home does sometimes.

Home gives you pumpkin Pup Cups.

Apparently.

šŸ„ MOO MEMO

Hello.

I am Blitzy.

I have conducted extensive research.

Pumpkin is good.

Can is good because pumpkin comes out of it.

Sister is good.

I tried to investigate Sister’s Pup Cup in case hers was different.

This was apparently ā€œrude.ā€

I remain unconvinced.

I would like another.

Thank you.

Blitzy šŸ„

šŸ„ OLD FRIENDS, HEALTHY BOUNDARIES & ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: MR. MOO

But puppy education wasn’t the only thing happening in the Den this week.

We also met someone!

Well.

She was new to me and Blitzy.

But definitely not new to everyone else.

Someone Mama and Mama #2 has known for a very, very long time came back into her life recently.

And apparently, humans can go ten whole years without seeing each other and still find their way back around.

Ten years!

That is approximately seventeen thousand years in dog time.

Probably.

I did not check the math.

But here is something I do know:

We like friends with healthy boundaries around here.

The kind who call.

The kind who check up on you.

The kind who say, ā€œHey, can I come visit?ā€ instead of deciding that knowing you a long time automatically means they have unlimited access to your time, your home, or your energy.

Even when there is history.

Even when it has been ten years.

Especially when Mama is still healing.

She called first.

She checked in.

She asked if she could come over.

And then?

She came for dinner.

🧔 MAMA NOTE: There is something deeply comforting about a friend who can return after years apart without acting entitled to the years in between.

Someone who checks in.

Someone who respects the life you have now.

Someone who asks before stepping back into it.

I missed having friends.

Mama #2 missed having friends, too.

Sometimes life gets very small when disability, illness, appointments, recovery, and survival keep eating pieces of the calendar.

You don’t necessarily notice all at once.

The world just gets quieter.

Fewer people come through the door.

Plans become harder.

Energy becomes expensive.

And somewhere along the way, you realize you miss something as ordinary and enormous as having a friend come over for dinner.

So, this mattered.

Even the Yard Yeti was surprised when he saw her!

He hadn’t seen her since he was a young teenager.

But he’s known her since he was a little kid.

Which means this wasn’t exactly a stranger walking into the Den.

It was more like someone from an older chapter suddenly appearing in the newest one.

Except now there’s a Service Dingoā„¢.

And a Potatoā„¢.

Things have clearly improved.

Sometimes reconnection doesn’t need a grand speech or an attempt to recreate exactly what existed ten years ago.

Sometimes it looks like a phone call.

A text message.

A boundary respected.

Dinner at the table.

Someone familiar meeting the people and creatures who make up your life now.

Naturally, Blitzy and I conducted the official inspection.

There were sniffs.

There was observation.

There were vibes.

And after careful consideration…

Achievement Unlocked: Cool Hippie Auntyā„¢.

Approved.

She also looked at my spotted little brother and gave him a brand-new nickname:

Mr. Moo.

And listen.

We love it.

Because Blitzy is spotted.

Blitzy is large. Even for a puppy.

Blitzy occasionally moves through the house with the spatial awareness of agricultural equipment.

And most importantly:

He is my First Cow.

I did not know I needed a cow.

But apparently I did.

I am a Cattle Dog.

Mama brought home a Potatoā„¢ and somehow I ended up with livestock.

Life is strange.

🧔 MAMA NOTE: The Den has changed a lot in ten years.

So have we.

But there was something really special about watching someone who knew an older version of our family sit down inside the version that exists now.

She knew the Yard Yeti when he was little.

Now he towers over everybody.

She knew me before so many of the chapters that eventually built The Crippled Cryptid..

Now there’s Luna.

There’s Blitzy.

There’s disability and adaptation and Bed Jailā„¢ and dog fur absolutely everywhere.

There is a whole life here that didn’t exist the last time she was part of it.

And instead of trying to step backward ten years?

We got to meet each other where we are now.

Maybe some friendships don’t come back because nothing changed.

Maybe sometimes they get another chance precisely because everybody did.

šŸ“‹ BIG SISTERā„¢: WEEK ONE REPORT

Since we have officially completed more than one full week of Potato ownership, I believe a formal evaluation is appropriate.

Blitzy’s First Week Home:

Doggy door: PASSED.

Bath time: PASSED.

Nail clippers: PASSED.

Meeting new humans: PASSED.

Accepting a new nickname approximately every seventeen minutes: EXCELLENT.

Pumpkin Pup Cup appreciation: DISTINGUISHED.

Understanding personal space: REQUIRES FURTHER STUDY.

Understanding that my legs are not chew toys: REQUIRES SIGNIFICANT FURTHER STUDY.

Boll comprehension: DEVELOPING.

Being ridiculously cute while committing crimes: UNFORTUNATELY EXCEPTIONAL.

Overall assessment: I think we can keep him.

šŸ„ MOO MEMO

I was not informed there would be grades.

I would like to appeal the personal-space section.

Also, Sister’s legs move.

This feels relevant.

Blitzy šŸ„

🐾 ONE WEEK AS A BIG SISTERā„¢

I think Mama was a little worried about how I would feel when Blitzy came home.

Because before him?

I was the baby.

I was Mama’s girl.

Her shadow.

Her working partner.

Her ball gremlin.

Her Service Dingoā„¢.

And I still am.

That didn’t disappear when he walked through the door.

There wasn’t suddenly less room for me.

The Den just got bigger.

Now there are little paws following mine.

A tiny nose watching what I do.

A puppy learning which doors we use.

When meals happen.

Where we sleep.

How we play.

What sounds mean something.

Who belongs here.

He watches me.

A lot.

Which is understandable.

I am very impressive.

But I’m learning things, too.

How to share space with someone who is still figuring out where his feet are.

How to tell him when I’ve had enough.

How to play gently.

How to walk away.

How to let Mama help when baby teeth become approximately seventeen thousand tiny needles attached to a Potatoā„¢.

And how to be a Big Sisterā„¢ without having to stop being Mama’s Luna.

Turns out…

I can be both.

Medical alert service dog.

Certified Good Girl.

Full-time nervous system supervisor.

Ball gremlin.

Yard Yeti enthusiast.

Mama’s freedom.

And now:

Big Sisterā„¢.

The pack got bigger.

Nobody had to become smaller to make room.

🧔 MAMA NOTE: Maybe that’s been the lesson of the Den lately.

Blitzy came home, and Luna didn’t lose her place.

An old friend came back, and nobody had to pretend the last ten years didn’t happen.

Our pack is growing in four-legged ways and human ones.

And I’m learning that healthy love doesn’t demand that someone else shrink to make room for it.

It knocks.

It asks if there’s space.

It respects the answer.

And when the door opens?

It brings something good to the table.

šŸ’œ FROM MY SPOT BESIDE MAMA

Thanks for staying with us.

If something here felt familiar, you’re not alone.

If today asked too much of you, it’s okay to rest.

You don’t have to earn care.

You don’t have to prove pain.

You don’t have to be productive to be worthy.

And you don’t have to make yourself smaller just because something new has entered your life.

There can be room.

For healing.

For change.

For old friends returning.

For new people arriving.

For puppies.

For complicated bodies.

For slow progress.

For joy that shows up looking suspiciously like a spotted Potatoā„¢ with giant feet.

This week, the Den made room for an old friend, a new nickname, a first cow, pumpkin on two noses, and a little more healing than Mama thinks she accomplished.

I think that’s a pretty good week.

I’ll be right here.

Watching Mama’s breathing.

Listening for the quiet shifts.

Ready to alert.

Interrupt.

Ground.

Apply DPT.

Or curl up beside her when that’s what she needs.

And apparently?

I’ll also be teaching my little brother the sacred ways of boll.

It is a tremendous responsibility.

But somebody has to do it.

If you want to spoil me, Mama did make me an Amazon Wishlist.

No expectations.

Ever.

It’s just there for people who enjoy sending love in chew-toy form.

Until next Friday,

Luna 🐾
(on behalf of Mama)

Ā© The Crippled Cryptid

Disability. Honesty. A little chaos.
(Absolutely dog fur, puppy love, pumpkin Pup Cups, and apparently one cow.)

šŸ”— https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa

No pressure to donate.

Reading counts.

Sharing counts.

Being here counts.

If you want to support the long, unglamorous work of survival and mobility:

šŸ’œ https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-skys-journey-to-health-and-mobility


Discover more from The Crippled Cryptid.

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Leave a comment

Ama Ndlovu explores the connections of culture, ecology, and imagination.

Her work combines ancestral knowledge with visions of the planetary future, examining how Black perspectives can transform how we see our world and what lies ahead.