We learned early on that Cobb has some insecurity where his balance is concerned, and for good reason. When you pick him up, it must be with the understanding that he’s somewhat top-heavy, because his back half is limp.
As you can imagine, we pick him up many times throughout the day, for various reasons, such as to empty his bladder, to lift him up to sit with us, and to go outside or to be put into his cart. There’s a specific way that we have to lift him, too. First, we position his back legs and hold him there, so he’s standing like an able-bodied dog, and then we reach under his body and “scoop” him up.
When we pick him up, the instability he feels, because of his injury, causes him to “grip” you rather tenaciously, the only way he can, using his front paws. He grasps with them until you’ve got him against you securely and he feels safe.
It never occurred to me at first, why every single one of my shirts were suddenly developing little holes in them, right around the naval area. At first, I thought it might have something to do with the battery acid that Paul sometimes brings home on his work clothes. Then I thought it might be Lily, who kind of flails when you pick her up.
It wasn’t until, one day, I watched exactly where Cobb grasps first, as I am stooped and picking him up. Sure enough, it’s right at the naval area of my shirts. Every. Single. One.
We love the destination LIG shirts and it’s the ones we look for on any vacation. It used to exasperate me because every time I’d buy a new shirt, the very first time I’d wear it, BAM, holes already! Once I discovered why and how the holes started appearing, I tried alternating how I picked Cobb up, but between him being top-heavy and his front paw grasping, and the arthritis in both of my wrists and hands, there really is no other way to pick him up.
If you ever see me out and about, and you notice that all of my shirts have holes in them, it's not because I don't care about my appearance. I am not depressed and I haven't "let myself go". I have no qualms about buying new shirts either-except that they will end up with holes too.
These little holes in my shirts used to exasperate me, but they don't anymore. After all, these are only shirts. Material objects. They are pretty meaningless in the big scheme of things. One day, a long time from now, there will be a hole in my heart, bigger than any of these holes in my shirts, and one day, I will miss them.