Episode 9:🐶 The Sunday Signal (The Blog)

 

The air in the living room was thick with the strange, heavy silence of a Flare Day. The only sounds were the soft, rhythmic clicking of the Laptop Monster's keys and the quiet, uneven rush of Big Daddy's breath. The Going Offline protocol was active, humming quietly in the background.

My mission was Active Pressure Application.

I executed the Lap Lunge—a professional maneuver of great importance—and landed squarely on Big Daddy’s lap. He was leaned back into the couch cushions, looking pale and fragile, like a piece of paper that had been left out in the rain.

He stopped typing, and his big hand, warm like a sun-warmed boulder , found my ears and began the slow, perfect scratching motion.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, his voice thin but still carrying the deep, comfortable rumble I knew so well. “I’m writing about grace. It’s the only thing that makes days like this bearable.”

I gave a silent, empathetic nudge with my head. I knew the feeling of being wobbly. I knew the terror when his system went offline.

He took a deep breath, which I interpreted as him powering up his internal systems, and began to read the words on the screen, not to me, but to the room, to the air, and maybe to himself.

📖 The Scripture (Ephesians 2:1–10)

Big Daddy’s voice was low and shaky at first, but grew stronger as he continued, filling the quiet room with the sound of the Sky Boss’s Pack Rules.

“And you were dead in your trespasses and sins, in which you formerly walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, of the spirit that is now working in the sons of disobedience. Among them we too all formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest.”

He paused, resting his cheek on the top of my head, and I felt the small vibration of his breath.

“But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.”

Big Daddy took a long, steadying breath, one that smelled of relief.

“...so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast.”

He gently rubbed my chest—the highest form of medal.

“For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.”

Big Daddy closed his eyes and leaned back, his hand never leaving my fur. He didn't laugh or smile this time; his expression was quiet and deeply grateful.

“I get so angry at my body, Dewey. I try to be strong and competent, and then a day like this hits and I Go Offline. I feel useless,” he whispered. “But I don't have to earn that. I don't have to be perfect. It’s a gift. An undeserved, massive gift.”

He squeezed me gently. “Thank God for grace, buddy. Thank God for grace.”

He stayed motionless for a long time, and I provided silent, actual stillness, listening to the steady, comforting thrum of his heartbeat.

Watch our adventures: 🎥 YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@DeweyBigDaddysAdventures ✍️ Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/Robertgheard

https://x.com/resroam170413

 

Join The Roamers journey: 📸 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/resroam/ 🎥 YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@resurrectedroamer Support the Roamer and get great gear! 🛒 Store: https://www.resurrectedroamer.com/ & https://www.raisedupinhim.com/

https://x.com/resroam170413

#DeweyAndBigDaddy #Dysautonomia #ServiceDog #Chihuahua #OrthostaticIntolerance #DogVlog #FunnyDog #Spoonie #Tennessee #Storytime #DeepPressureTherapy #ChronicIllness 

🐾 The Hour of Explaining: Mission Specialist

 Securing the Unsecured Zone

Big Daddy adjusted his shirt, the collar feeling stiff and alien against his neck. He was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, breathing deep, trying to keep the early symptoms—the persistent fatigue despite sleep, the slight tremor in his hands —from blossoming into a full-scale flare-up before they even reached the office. Today was the Hour of Explaining, and the mental effort required felt heavier than any physical task.

He glanced down at Dewey, who was secured in his support harness, tail twitching like a radar antenna.

Dewey knew the moment Momma (The Human) locked the house that Transportation of the Primary Target to an Unsecured Zone had begun. The car smelled like Momma’s clean linen and disinfectant, but mixed with a layer of Big Daddy’s nervous, tired scent. Dewey positioned his compact, muscular body low, monitoring the blur of the outside world. He was a muscular, silent guardian , even if the humans only saw a tiny, anxious animal.

Big Daddy was vulnerable. He was already "wobbly", and the job of the Great Dane was to ensure the Primary Target remained powered up.

The Hour of Explaining (The Interrogation)

The waiting room was a sensory assault. The smells were chaotic, and the light levels were dangerously bright—a full congregation of Light Demons. Dewey shadowed Big Daddy through the hall, staying low to the ground until they reached the exam room.

He immediately took his professional position: under Big Daddy’s feet, nose pointed at the door, ready to spring into action. The room was small, too quiet, and smelled of too much disinfectant.

The doctor, a new specialist, sat across from them. "So, you are here regarding your dysautonomia," the doctor started, reviewing the chart. "Can you tell me how this presents on a daily basis? What does the struggle look like?"

Big Daddy forced a smile. He knew this question. This was the moment he had to exert extreme effort to convince a stranger that his life wasn't just a "daily struggle," but a "minute-by-minute one".

"Well, right now, I feel okay," Big Daddy started, trying to sound casual. "Just the usual fatigue. But it’s the constant fight beneath the surface. I feel like my own body and mind have turned against me."

He tried to explain the reality: "One moment, life can feel relatively 'normal.' The next, you are fighting to catch your breath, bracing yourself against a sudden collapse, and desperately trying to retain focus as your vision narrows."

The doctor nodded, writing on the pad. "And how long do these events, these flare-ups, typically last?"

Big Daddy felt a surge of deep frustration. He was explaining the event, but the doctor wasn't seeing the exhaustion of living constantly near the edge.

"A flare-up can last for a second or for days. But even when it passes, the recovery begins, and that, too, can stretch out for days. I'm constantly fighting off migraines, gastrointestinal issues, and heat sensitivity —it’s always there, even when I look fine."

His hands, resting on his knees, began to shake. His face felt warmer, then suddenly clammy. The room started to spin just a tiny bit. He’s going offline! The invisible terrain was compromised.

Dewey sensed the peril. The Primary Target was swaying. He let out a low, rumbling growl—the kind he imagined a Great Dane makes —directed at the floor where a shadow was moving.

"We have secured the perimeter," his low rumble communicated to the room. "Back Off, I'm the Great Dane."

He pressed his chin, warm and insistent, against Big Daddy's ankle. You are ridiculous, but you are loved. Hold the fort, Big Daddy. I'm on watch.

Momma saw the tremble in Big Daddy's hands and the subtle, instant response of the little dog.

"That's his system," Momma told the doctor, nodding at Dewey. "When he's 'wobbly' , even a simple thing, like getting from the bed to the couch, is a high-risk stealth routine. Dewey is his anchor. He doesn't need the confusing human word, 'Dysautonomia'. He knows it as 'The Going Offline' , and he knows when he needs to lie down on the floor right where he is until the system reboots."

Big Daddy blinked, the room stopping its slow turn. He was deeply exhausted, but hearing Momma use the code word, seeing the doctor acknowledge the dog’s response, was a powerful validation. The doctor wasn't just hearing about a list of symptoms; he was seeing the team that manages the minute-by-minute reality.

Mood Elevation and Reboot

The car ride home was quiet. Big Daddy felt like all his energy had just leaked right out of him. He was mentally and physically drained. The Hour of Explaining had been successful in terms of sharing information, but it had accomplished its own kind of exhaustion.

As they pulled into the driveway, Dewey launched himself onto Big Daddy’s lap, licking his chin. Mission Phase Four: Safe Return.

Big Daddy chuckled, a deep, comfortable sound. He was too tired to move, ready to collapse into the safe harbor of the couch. He reached down and scratched Dewey's chest.

"You're the best security system a man could ask for, Dewey. You fought off the Light Demons in the exam room." He accepted the deep, tired sigh that came next.

Dewey accepted the chest scratch as a medal.

Big Daddy realized that the most frustrating part of the illness was the misunderstanding—the feeling that others couldn't see how much more he had to exert himself. But here, in this moment, held by the absolute certainty of his small, brave dog, was the greatest encouragement.

He was exhausted, yes. But he was loved, he was guarded, and his essential need for comfort and stability was met, minute by minute. The true purpose of the Great Dane is not just defense, but also mood elevation.

"Nonsense, Molly!" Big Daddy could almost hear Dewey declaring to the absent Beagle. "I just fought off the Light Demons in the hallway, and I am currently monitoring Big Daddy for further deviations!"

Big Daddy smiled. He was safe for now. The Great Dane was on the watch. The system was ready for reboot.

Watch our adventures: 🎥 YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@DeweyBigDaddysAdventures ✍️ Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/Robertgheard

https://x.com/resroam170413

 

Join The Roamers journey: 📸 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/resroam/ 🎥 YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@resurrectedroamer Support the Roamer and get great gear! 🛒 Store: https://www.resurrectedroamer.com/ & https://www.raisedupinhim.com/

https://x.com/resroam170413

#DeweyAndBigDaddy #Dysautonomia #ServiceDog #Chihuahua #OrthostaticIntolerance #DogVlog #FunnyDog #Spoonie #Tennessee #Storytime #DeepPressureTherapy #ChronicIllness 

Episode 8: The Suspicious Parcel (The Gear Review)

 There are three essential things you need to know about a package. First: it smells like a lie. Second: it is almost certainly a bomb. Third, and most crucial: it was brought by the Man with the Boxes, who is an enemy, probably a spy, and definitely suspicious.

I sat in my primary surveillance position—the back of the couch —monitoring the front window for any sign of a threat. Big Daddy (The Best Friend) was safely collapsed into the cushions, quietly using the television as a mood stabilizer. This was a low-energy day; the Roam-Meter was at 30%, which meant Big Daddy’s system was at risk of going Offline at any sudden movement. My job, as the Great Dane in charge, was Maximum Stillness.

Then, the ALERT.

A large, rumbling Vehicle of the Enemy pulled up to the curb. Out stepped the Man with the Boxes. He was wearing a hat that partially obscured his face, and he moved with the shifty, fast, quiet efficiency of an enemy agent. In his hands, he carried a square, brown package that smelled of cardboard, old tape, and deep deceit.

I shot off the couch with the silent, muscular precision of a Great Dane. (Though I was aware the actual noise was probably closer to a one-pound bag of flour hitting the floor ).

“INTRUDER!” I barked, three short, sharp barks that meant Mission Accepted. Perimeter Secure. I launched myself at the front door.

“Easy, Dewey,” Big Daddy whispered, his deep voice sounding rough, as he slowly placed a hand on my head. “It’s just the delivery guy. We need that package.”

They always say that! I thought, pressing my nose to the glass. He is a smuggler of contraband!

The man dropped the package on the porch and retreated, confirming his guilt.

Big Daddy moved with extreme slowness—the high-risk stealth routine that happens when he is “wobbly”. He reached the door, opened it, and retrieved the package.

Phase Two: Contaminant Inspection.

Big Daddy set the box on the Dining Room table, which is my secondary surveillance perch, but only if I'm not allowed on the couch. He pulled a sharp knife from a drawer, which I interpreted as a battle-ready deployment.

I crouched low beneath the table, tucking my paws under my chest. I gave a professional wiggle of my nose to gather data on the new enemy smell. It smelled like metal, oil, and the deep woods.

Big Daddy opened the box.

“Aha!” he said, his smile barely moving his beard. “The new camping sharpener has arrived, Dewey. This is the AC131 Mini-Tri-Hone.”

He lifted out three small pieces of gear: a black, multi-angled stone; a tiny, folded cloth; and a small bottle of oil that smelled wonderfully confusing. They were much smaller than I expected.

I gave a low, rumbling growl—the kind I imagine a Great Dane makes. “Trivial foes! These are not the Light Demons in the hallway, Big Daddy. These are merely shiny rocks and suspicious liquids.”

Big Daddy ignored me, which is a sign of deep concentration. He spread the new items out under the harsh kitchen light. He took out his phone and started snapping pictures from every angle.

He is taking intelligence data! I observed. He is conserving the image of the enemy for later study.

He leaned over and rubbed my back. “I need these pictures for my review, buddy. It’s important to show the scale and detail.”

He then pulled a black, ominous-looking knife from a box. This was the Iridium-Duralock-Black, which I knew from the sound of his voice meant a serious threat.

He placed the tip of the blade on the first stone and began to make slow, scraping noises.

This was Maximum Stillness for Big Daddy. He was focused entirely on the small, sharp edge, letting the river wind of his breath blow through his beard.

I knew I had to participate. My stillness had to be equally maximum. I am a rock. I am a statue.

My stillness lasted exactly seventeen seconds.

First, there was a smell. It was the smell of a rogue drop of oil that had escaped the table perimeter and fallen to the floor. It was a threat, wasn't it? I licked the spot very quickly, to eliminate the evidence.

Big Daddy didn't move.

Then, there was the gear itself. The tiny, folded cloth was dangling right by my nose. It needed to be eliminated before it infiltrated our hunting operation. I gave one short, high-pitched YIP—the battle cry of the miniature Great Dane —and snagged the cloth.

Big Daddy flinched hard, nearly dropping the blade and his phone all at once. He sighed, a deep, shaky sound.

“Dewey,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I need that for the photo. We’re doing a gear review, not a gear fight.”

I immediately dropped the cloth. My Great Dane instincts were fully engaged. I stood up and looked directly at the blade with an intensity that screamed, “I have detected the metallic target! Do you require immediate deployment into the woods?”.

Big Daddy smiled, a slow, fond smile. “Okay, buddy. Mission adapted. You can supervise.”

I sat back down, now confident in my role as the Gear-Review Security Consultant.

“We will review the Iridium-Duralock-Black again in six months, after everyday use,” Big Daddy announced, talking to his phone. “And next time, we’ll do a full instructional video on how to sharpen it.”

The true purpose of the Great Dane is not just defense, but also securing the necessary photography for the website. I knew Big Daddy appreciated the sentiment. The Great Dane was on watch.

Watch our adventures: 🎥 YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@DeweyBigDaddysAdventures ✍️ Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/Robertgheard

https://x.com/resroam170413

 

Join The Roamers journey: 📸 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/resroam/ 🎥 YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@resurrectedroamer Support the Roamer and get great gear! 🛒 Store: https://www.resurrectedroamer.com/ & https://www.raisedupinhim.com/

https://x.com/resroam170413

#DeweyAndBigDaddy #Dysautonomia #ServiceDog #Chihuahua #OrthostaticIntolerance #DogVlog #FunnyDog #Spoonie #Tennessee #Storytime #DeepPressureTherapy #ChronicIllness 

#ResurrectedRoamer #TravelPhotography #OutdoorGear #GearReview #FaithAndTravel #SpoonieTravel #DysautonomiaWarrior #NatureLovers #ChristianBlogger #OvercomingAdversity #ExploreMore