Wag the Dog...

...is used in politics. It's when an item of minor importance dominates a situation. For example let's say a country (any country, just pick one) is on the verge of war, but the news is focused on the leader of that country (any leader, no fingers) and his dalliances with some kind of intern. This is an instance of the tail wagging the dog. There happens to be a movie called Wag the Dog. The phrase came before the movie not after, just FYI, and I thought it was about a dog named Wag. It is not.

Anyway, let me just reassure you this entry isn't about politics. It is about tails and the dogs they are attached to. At least until this afternoon.

I have mentioned my pup, Gus, in previous posts. In a world where I can't stand dogs, I love this dog. I am stupid for this dog. I have spent more time and money on him than on every pet that has ever passed though my door. Admittedly that wasn't much, but it is a chunk of change for him.

I took him to a puppy training class where he graduated and I took a picture of him wearing a graduation cap. It is the home screen on my phone. I buy him lots of treats. They are in a big tin in my room. I let him sleep in my room (until his snoring made it impossible to sleep), and I even take him for walks.

One of my favorite parts of Gus is his tail. It had, until Friday, this darling white tip. However Gus has a raging case of Happy Tail Syndrome. He wags that tail with reckless abandon, slamming it against walls, corners, doors, even his own side. He doesn't seem to feel the damage he does because he won't stop swinging it. We thought it had been resolved before he was neutered last month, but that surgery started him right back up.

We tried everything. I bandaged his tail in medical tape. When he chewed that off, I wrapped it in duck tape. I covered the bandaged end in Bitter No Chew. He loved it! I have this nasty nail polish I use on my own nails to keep me from biting them. It didn't stop him. I gave him a taste of Tabasco sauce. He lapped it up like it was lemonade. In the end (boo) I had to have the sweet white tip and another inch amputated from his tail.

That was Friday.

Saturday morning, I come out of my room to a scene from a bloody murder. There was blood everywhere. Not a little blood, a LOT of blood. I was beside myself. I hustled my dog back to the vet and it was decided it was in Guster's best interest that his tail be completely removed. I reluctantly gave the okay and that is why he now has a nubbin. It looks okay. I miss his white tipped tail but it's nice that I no longer worry about my home looking like a mass murder.

Epilogue
I wrote this post two years ago, but never published it. I publish it now at the request of my friend Laurie.