The Little Ones in 2010

This picture of Scout enjoying the wrapping paper is from late 2009.

Here the warm beds put her in a good mood to end the day.

I wanted a different mood for this picture compared to Sam's toes above taken with bounce flash, so I used only the room lamp as lighting and bumped the ISO of the camera up to 3200, but even so the shutter speed at f/8 was only one quarter of a second.

Easier said then done when centrifugal forces are at work.

But one day I noticed her on a ledge near the bathroom after I took a shower and took a few minutes to let her play in my wet hair. Since then she's became a regular customer and is often there to greet me when I step out of the shower.

Eventually I set her on the bed and laid down and patted my chest and to my surprise, she jumped right up and started rubbing her head against mine and chirping her birdie purrs. Our one-on-one snuggles have now become a morning ritual, although they don't always last for long, one of the others will usually sniff out that snuggling is afoot and jump up with us.

I thought she would keep me up all night after we got back late Sunday night, which she usually does when I leave town for a while, but instead she curled up on me and let me sleep through the night. And the next night, and the next night, and I thought I was home free.

She made up for it the next night.

It only hurts when I need to raise my arm to put on a jacket, or, yes, throw hedgehog. Hedgehog practices were closed to the media so all anyone had to go on were the injury reports which listed the shoulder as sore.

Would he play or wouldn't he?

The gasps when I took the field were nothing compared to when I first rolled out and fired a bullet downfield catching Ellie in stride. Left-handed. You see, I am not only the world's first and foremost hedgehogger, I'm also the world's only ambidextrous hedgehogger.

That, my friends, is why I'll be enshrined in the Hedgehog Hall of Fame on the first ballot.

I'm not accusing her of faking, mind you, even though she was running fine when she took the field. You just don't feel the pain when you're in a state of hedgehoggephoria.

Outside hedgehog involves more running and as Ellie tires, her tongue starts hanging out farther and farther until eventually you can glimpse the Great Black Spot, first observed by Galileo Galilei in 1609 courtesy of his advancements in telescope design. I've learned that when the Great Black Spot appears, Ellie is getting pretty tired and has to make the difficult choice between squeaking hedgehog and breathing. In her state of hedgehoggephoria, I can see in her eyes she's not always going to make the right choice, so that's when it's time to stop and take a breather.

This intermission would be a good time for entertainment, I've thought about putting the cats in little cheerleader outfits, but even I'm not that brave.

As you can see from the picture, a lot of NFL receivers could learn from Ellie's dedication to her craft, never taking her eyes off the prize until the hedgehog is secured.

Poor girl.

The basement stairs are blocked off but somehow she slipped past our defenses this morning as I heard the familiar tappa-tappa-tappa of her claws on the hardwood. I gave her the "bed" command so she'd at least lie down in her bed and rest, but she jumped up into bed with me instead. I guess that's on me for not specifying which bed. She snuggled up to me and Scout and Sam joined in and we all enjoyed the next hour until my alarm rang out and ruined the moment.

I feel so bad knowing how difficult the road ahead will be for her, so to make myself feel better I'll post a picture from happier times.

She's tolerated this all pretty well, and still has a ways to go, but oh how happy she will be when she is back on her feet.

She gets medication for a few days to manage the intense pain of the early recovery period, as well as some other meds, and cold compresses to minimize swelling. She really doesn't like the cold on her bare skin so I cradled her in my arms while my wife held the compress. I had to smile when eventually we heard the sounds of snoring.

Good to have you home, Ellie. Good to have you home.

So we'll keep her on a light dose of sedatives until then, just enough to take her edge off, as she's more than ready to run and jump and do all the things she shouldn't do yet. But by and large, our girl remains as sweet as ever and has been more patient with her recovery than I expected.

I suppose I should be insulted at my dog's estimate of my intelligence, but it was so cute it just made me laugh. She'd always obey if my tone indicated she needed to, so I let it slide.

So while she still isn't allowed to run and play the way she'd like, we're headed in the right direction and today was the first day I didn't keep her penned up when I left for work. She is allowed to use the stairs now and so has free reign of the house, finally able to rise up from the basement and join me on the main floor. And the bedroom on the top floor at night, this morning I literally woke up covered by all the pets but Emma!

Her walks have also resumed, slowly increasing in 5 minute intervals as she builds back her stamina and muscle mass. We don't get too far, she's eager to get reacquainted with old friends and say hello to you little bush, and you little tree, and you blade of grass, and you little leaf, and …

We've adapted baby hedgehog play since she first got her surgery, matching it to her allowed activity level. We started off with a game where she didn't need to move anything but her head, to now where she can be more mobile but doesn't need to run and jump.

I don't know much about hedgehogs but they must not be too bright. Ellie loves to lie on her back like a fallen log and sneak up on them and they fall for it every single time. Ellie has a strict catch-and-release policy so you'd think by now they'd have figured out her strategy.