Grief, construction equipment, puppy reunions, and remembering to notice the good things.

Content Note: This post discusses grief, death, chronic illness, service-dog work, emotional overwhelm, loud construction noises, and general life-with-disability stuff. It also contains puppy wrestling, excessive barking, and one extremely opinionated Australian Cattle Dog.

🐾 Welcome to The Crippled Cryptid

Disability.

Chronic illness.

Service dogs.

Dogs being dogs.

And survival without the performance.

If you’re new here…

Hi.

I’m Luna Bean.

Medical Alert Service Dog.

Certified Good Girl.

Professional Mama Supervisor.

Full-time ball goblin.

And, apparently…

Big Sister.

I have a lot of jobs.

Some of them are very serious.

I notice changes in Mama’s body.

Migraines.

Seizures.

Heart rate spikes.

Muscle spasms.

The suspicious little shifts that tell me something isn’t right.

I alert.

I interrupt spirals.

I do Deep Pressure Therapy.

I retrieve things when Mama drops them.

I remind her when her body is being difficult.

And when Mama is being difficult too…

Well.

Sometimes I call for Mumther.

That’s what she’s there for.

Mama says I keep an eye on her.

I think Mama needs supervision.

There is a difference.

She gets stubborn.

She says she’s fine.

Sometimes she’s not.

So, I watch.

I listen.

I wait.

And when something is wrong, I help her get the help she needs.

Because that’s my Mama.

She’s my person.

But my world is bigger than Mama.

There is M&M.

Mama #2.

Treat provider.

Belly-rub specialist.

Bandana procurement officer.

In the spring, summer, and fall, she picks out my bandanas.

When the weather gets cold, she finds sweaters for me and my baby brother.

She says we need to stay warm.

I allow this.

Mostly.

Then there is the Yard Yeti.

BJ.

Mama’s little brother.

But still the tallest creature in the house.

My best friend.

He throws my ball farther than anybody else.

This is an extremely important qualification.

He says, “Lulus!” every time he sees me.

Naturally, I respond with maximum bork.

Maximum boing.

Maximum tail.

This is also the law.

Then there is the orange Jeep.

Mama’s Jeep.

My Jeep.

Okay, technically Mama’s Jeep.

But I am an important passenger.

I like car rides.

I like going places.

I like watching the world happen through the window.

And then…

There is Blitzø.

My baby brother.

My Potato.

My giant spotted little cow.

He is learning.

I am teaching.

Sometimes I wrestle him.

Sometimes I correct him.

Sometimes I let him follow me around the yard.

Sometimes he touches my toys.

Sometimes he touches my ears.

Sometimes… I need a break.

I am allowed to need a break.

But he’s Pack.

And he’s my baby brother.

So, I suppose…

I’ll keep him.

He has grown on me.

A little.

This Pack has changed.

It’s gotten bigger.

There are more paws.

More people.

More toys.

More fur.

More reasons to supervise everybody.

But there is also more love.

And I like that.

A lot.

🐾 Luna’s Main Character Energy

Mama says I have “Main Character Energy.”

Whatever the Fluff that means.

She says it a lot.

Usually when I’m doing something important.

Like supervising.

Or chasing my ball.

Or sitting dramatically in the middle of the room because everyone else is clearly doing something wrong.

Sometimes she looks at me with that particular face she gets when she’s thinking about a story.

I know that face.

There are apparently…

Plans.

Big ones, I think.

Mama says some of them involve me.

She won’t tell me everything.

Which is rude.

But I have learned that when Mama starts saying things like “Someday…” and “I have an idea…”

I should probably pay attention.

Because apparently…

I have Main Character Energy.

Whatever the Fluff that means.

Personally, I think it means I am very important.

Which is correct.

🐾

Most days around here are pretty quiet.

Sometimes we are in Bed Jail™.

Sometimes we’re outside.

Sometimes we’re in the Jeep.

Sometimes I’m working.

Sometimes I’m playing.

And sometimes…

I am chasing the ball for approximately the four hundredth time because apparently nobody else understands that this is my purpose in life.

I am many things.

Service dog.

Big sister.

Daughter.

Adventure dog.

Jeep dog.

Ball goblin.

Snack enthusiast.

Professional Good Girl.

But most importantly…

I am Luna.

And this is my Friday.

Welcome back to the Lunatic Café.

🐾 On Today’s Menu: Friday Takeover

Hi!

Hello again!

It is me, Luna Bean!

If you’ve made it this far, then you already know that it is Friday, and what we do here on Fridays.

You get the full report on what our week has looked like…

Or maybe what it hasn’t looked like.

But first…

Hydration check.

Because in Mama’s words…

This week has been fucking brutal.

And you know what?

Sometimes there isn’t a way to fix a week like that.

Sometimes you just have to get through it.

This was one of those weeks.

🖤 A Heavy Week in the Den

Mama has been sadder than usual this week.

The world lost three people who meant something very different to her, but who all left enormous footprints behind them.

Dolly Parton.

Tim Curry.

Peter Cullen.

Three completely different people.

Three completely different careers.

Three completely different pieces of Mama’s childhood and life.

And three people who can’t simply be replaced.

Dolly sang songs that became part of Mama’s family soundtrack.

There is one in particular that her grandfather used to play and sing in his van when Mama was growing up. “Coat of Many Colors”

So, when she hears it now…

She doesn’t just hear Dolly.

She hears Grandpa.

She hears being little.

She hears riding around in the van.

She hears a piece of a life that doesn’t exist exactly the way it used to anymore.

Tim Curry was everywhere.

Movies.

Television.

Voice acting.

Characters that Mama grew up with and will probably never stop loving.

Some people become part of your childhood without ever knowing your name.

They become part of the furniture of your imagination.

You grow up with their voices.

Their faces.

Their characters.

Their weird little pieces of magic.

And then one day, you realize the person behind them is gone.

That’s a strange kind of grief.

And then there was Peter Cullen.

Optimus Prime.

Eeyore.

Two characters that couldn’t possibly feel more different.

And yet both became unforgettable.

Eeyore especially mattered to Mama because he was one of her mom’s favorite characters.

Mama used to joke that Bear was basically Eeyore in dog form.

And Peter Cullen was her Eeyore.

Yes, there have been other voices.

But he was the Eeyore Mama grew up with.

The one she knew.

The one who had been there since 1988.

Since before Mama was even born.

Since before Mama’s mama was grown.

And that counts for something really big.

So, this week has hurt.

Not because the world stopped.

It didn’t.

The world kept moving.

People went to work.

Dogs needed dinner.

Laundry still existed.

Construction crews apparently declared war on our street.

The sun came up.

The sun went down.

Life kept going.

And sometimes that is the weirdest part of grief.

You can be carrying something enormous inside yourself while the rest of the world just… keeps Tuesday-ing.

So, we’re doing what we do.

We’re keeping going.

Not because we’re magically okay.

Not because we’re done being sad.

Just because we’re still here.

🍂 The Fall Bug

Aside from everyone being sad this week…

Mama got a fall bug.

Not the sick kind.

The kind that says it is suddenly appropriate to clean the house.

Apparently, the weather changed and Mama’s brain went:

FALL.

So now things must be cleaned.

In small doses.

Because nobody is allowing Mama to turn this into an all-day cleaning extravaganza.

Especially so close to surgery.

There is also rouladen.

Or Rindrouladen, if you know that name better.

A German meat dish that her grandma used to make for her once or twice a year.

Mama has been talking about it all week.

Between watching Blitzø turn thirteen weeks old…

Playing with us in the fall weather…

Trying not to cuss out the construction crew…

And apparently deciding that now is the appropriate season for German comfort food.

I approve of this last part.

🚧 Construction: 0/10, Would Not Recommend

For the first time in Mama’s entire life, they’re fixing the street in front of the house.

New asphalt.

Potholes being repaired.

Things that probably should have been fixed approximately one billion years ago.

Apparently, the city finally remembered that roads require maintenance.

Unfortunately…

They remembered loudly.

Me and Blitz do not like it.

It rattles the windows.

You can feel it in the walls.

You can feel it in the floor.

And even though Mama plays music, keeps the TV on, talks to us softly, and stays nearby…

Nothing makes the sound less scary.

Even being outside in the yard doesn’t really help.

So, Mama has been doing what she can to keep us calm and comfortable while we’re stuck at home.

We are still getting our exercise.

We are still hitting our step goals.

We are still playing.

We are still being dogs.

We’re just doing it with a little extra help getting through the noise.

Because Mama says stress matters too.

She doesn’t want us sitting around terrified all day just because somebody decided to bring a tiny earthquake machine down our street.

And honestly?

I agree.

Also…

Our house was built in 1954.

It’s almost seventy-five years old.

So like…

Be gentle with it.

Damn.

🐾 Emotional Support Human

Mama likes to joke that even though I’m a service dog… she’s my emotional support human.

And you know something?

She’s right.

I help her.

She takes care of me.

I watch her.

She watches me.

I keep an eye on her body.

She keeps an eye on my heart.

And there is nothing she wouldn’t do for me.

I believe that.

Being a service dog doesn’t mean I don’t get to have feelings.

It doesn’t mean I have to work every second.

It doesn’t mean I can’t get scared.

It doesn’t mean I don’t need comfort.

It doesn’t mean I don’t need breaks.

I’m a dog.

I’m allowed to be a dog.

And Mama makes sure I remember that.

🐾 The Farmer’s Market That Wasn’t

Due to everything going on this week…

We didn’t go to the farmer’s market the way we wanted to.

Mama wanted to take us to see the Yard Yeti yesterday.

Instead, she came home, took a nap with us, and took a shower.

Then she went to get him by herself.

I hope she turned the music up loud.

I hope she rolled the windows down.

I hope she gave herself a few minutes to breathe.

Because this week has been heavy.

Sometimes the thing you planned isn’t the thing your body can handle.

Sometimes the right choice is the quiet one.

And that’s okay.

🐶🐶🐶 Puppy Reunion!

But then…

PLOT TWIST.

In the afternoon, Mama’s cousin came over with Binka’s brother…

PREACHER!

It was the first time Binka had seen somebody from his litter since coming home.

And everybody was excited.

Mama was especially excited to see how much Preacher had grown.

He’s one of only three puppies in the litter with markings like Blitzø.

And seeing the two of them standing next to each other was WILD.

Blitzø is tall and lanky.

Preacher is a little shorter, stockier, and thicker.

He’s silvery and black with spots, looking at him compared to Blitzø is wild.

Apparently Preacher’s mama says he eats five cups a day at night.

Which is VERY different from what we do.

It is amazing how different households do things.

Different routines.

Different feeding schedules.

Different personalities.

Different puppies.

Same litter.

Similar ridiculous faces.

Very different little dudes.

While our humans sat at the back table talking for a couple of hours…

It was puppy playtime.

Mama and Mama #2 got to tell Mama’s Cousin all about Binka and me and how we’ve been doing.

And they got to hear all about Preacher.

Meanwhile…

Binka and Preacher wrestled.

And wrestled.

And wrestled.

And wrestled.

With me supervising the entire operation.

Eventually I decided to sit back and let the puppies roughhouse it out.

Not because I don’t love my little brother.

But sometimes it’s better to let someone pick on someone their own size.

That is called delegation.

I’m very good at management.

🐾 Things We Taught Preacher

We taught Preacher how to use the dog door.

We played outside on the deck.

We tried to teach him the stairs.

He was not convinced.

But the doggy pool?

Immediate success.

We played with the balls.

We played with the toys.

We played in the water.

There was running.

There was wrestling.

There was barking.

There were approximately seventeen thousand puppy feet going in completely different directions.

It was wonderful.

And when they finally had to go home…

We were all sad.

But we’re already looking forward to seeing them again.

Because in October…

Preacher might be coming to stay with us for a couple of days.

Which means…

LONGER PUPPY PLAY DATE.

I have concerns.

Mostly about the amount of supervision this will require.

But I am prepared.

Probably.

🍁 So What’s Happening Today?

As for today?

Probably a quiet day at home.

Unless we can find somewhere dog-safe to go for a little while and get away from the construction.

Because it is getting on everyone’s nerves.

Humans.

Dogs.

Everybody.

It woke everyone up bright and early.

Everyone thought somebody had hit the house.

That’s how hard it shook.

It felt like something had driven straight through the building.

And again…

1954, people.

Be gentle.

🐾 Your Friday Reminder

If you haven’t yet today…

Drink some water.

Drink something that makes your body happy.

Eat something good.

Take your medicine if you have medicine to take.

Rest if you need rest.

Ask for help if you need help.

Be gentle with yourself.

And remember what Binka says:

Do one thing that makes you happy.

Or one thing that makes you feel good.

It doesn’t have to be huge.

It doesn’t have to be productive.

It doesn’t have to impress anybody.

It can be a favorite snack.

A shower.

A nap.

A stupid television show.

A walk.

A book.

A car ride.

Five minutes in the sunshine.

Calling somebody you love.

Petting your dog.

Throwing the ball for the four hundredth time.

Whatever makes your little piece of the world feel better…

Do that.

🌙🐾 Luna’s Closing Notes

That’s all for this week’s takeover.

Thank you for sitting with me for a little while.

I know Mama talks about a lot of things around here.

Her body.

Her writing.

Her adventures.

Her recovery.

Her weird stories.

Her dogs.

Her life.

But I want you to know something.

This isn’t just Mama’s life anymore.

It’s ours.

Mine.

M&M’s.

BJ’s.

Blitzø’s.

And yours too, if you’ve been sitting around the Den with us.

I have a job.

It’s an important one.

I watch Mama.

I alert when something is wrong.

I help her when her body stops cooperating.

I make sure she doesn’t wander too far into the dark.

But I also have a life.

I chase my ball.

I ride in the orange Jeep.

I supervise the yard.

I steal warm spots.

I wear the bandanas M&M picks out.

I wear sweaters when it’s cold.

I wrestle my baby brother.

I teach him things.

I tell him when he’s being rude.

I let him know when he’s allowed to follow me.

And sometimes…

I walk away because even Big Sisters need quiet time.

That’s okay too.

I don’t have to be working every second to be important.

Neither do you.

Mama says I remind her of that.

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe that’s part of my job too.

So, if this week was hard…

Rest.

If your body is tired…

Listen to it.

If you need help…

Ask.

If someone offers care…

You don’t have to earn it first.

And if you had a good week?

Tell somebody.

Celebrate it.

Throw the ball.

Eat the snack.

Take the car ride.

Sit in the sunshine.

Do the thing that makes your tail wag.

Life isn’t only about getting through the difficult parts.

Sometimes it’s about noticing the good ones while they’re happening.

And trust me…

I am very good at noticing the good ones.

Especially if the good one involves a tennis ball.

🐾

🐾 Luna’s Official Weekly Report

Mama: Supervised.

Mumther: Fashionably prepared.

BJ: Excellent throwing arm.

Blitzø: Still baby. Still learning. Still mine.

Preacher: Excellent puppy guest. Needs more pool time.

Orange Jeep: Approved.

Construction Crew: Absolutely not.

Ball: Chased.

Snacks: Investigated.

Cuddles: Accepted.

Work: Completed.

Good Girl Status: Obviously.

Pack: Safe.

Den: Full.

Friday: Successful.

Until next Friday…

I’ll be here.

Watching.

Listening.

Playing.

Working.

And probably asking someone to throw my ball.

Love you.

Now say it back.

🐾 Luna Bean

Medical Alert Service Dog, Big Sister, Ball Goblin & Professional Mama Supervisor

(on behalf of Mama)

© The Crippled Cryptid

Disability. Honesty. A little chaos.

Absolutely dog fur, puppy wrestling, and Luna Bean attitude.

🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa

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

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