Buttons, a longhaired dachshund and author of the following, decides to indulge in yoga to relax, and finds himself in a precarious position.
Yoga Toes, for those of you who don’t know, are gelatinous objects– yes, like jello– that fit between your toes. We have a pair at our house. According to the marketing pitch, they can be used to promote relaxation and cure bunions, hammertoes, and plantar fascia. Without a doubt, I know each of my paws has at least one of these conditions.
One of my pen friends, Sis W., had a severe case of plantar fasciitis last year, and I could so sympathize. The pain is horrible. In fact, I had it at the same time she did. We commiserated during my Christmas vacation while I was visiting at my Nana’s. Sis and Nana are best friends, and I think she is one of my closest friends, too. Both of them live in Addison, population 216.
I told my Nana all about the Yoga Toes, so she ordered a pair for herself. She needs to read the instructions to get the best she can out of them. She sure does need them. Her second toe laps over her big toe, just like mine; it’s probably genetic. It’s pretty gross.
I know my adopted parental unit purchased these Yoga Toes just for me. They are blue – and blue is for boys, right? Both my mom and sister have worn them, although neither seems to have had them on long enough to get relaxed; at least, that’s what I gather from the way they act most of the time. Those two truly are pathetic. How they managed before I came along is a mystery to me.
Apparently, there are some tricks to attaching them securely. Water is key. Slide aforementioned Yoga Toes beneath warm running water, push toes between gel-like open slots, sit down, relax, and wiggle – your toes, that is.
Looked like a no-brainer to me. Since my paws were killing me from all the ball rolling and blogging I do, I made the decision to use them last night. My first problem was deciding which paws to use them on, since I have four, and there were only two Yoga Toes. My plan was to relax after I got them on, do some deep breathing exercises, and take a nap. Not complicated at all – piece of cake.
The first problem I encountered was a lack of running water within reach. At this point, my canine creativity kicked in. I decided my saliva was quite similar to H2O, maybe even better than it. A good licking ensued, and when the YT were well lubricated, I attempted to slide them onto my paws. This is when the difficulties became apparent. A whole paw fit in one slot. Please make note there are five slots per toe stretcher.
With this revelation, I knew I wasn’t going to have enough for all of my appendages. Unfortunately, I couldn’t move and I was getting a fierce backache from being in an (unintentional) horizontal Uttanasana11 position. This wasn’t working out as I had expected.
Then, over sauntered “you-know-who” – he who thinks he is so wise. I pretended to be asleep, but finally opened one eye. He was staring at me in disbelief. Finally he said, “Boy.” I hate it when he calls me that name. He continued with, “What in the name of heaven are you doing?”
“I am doing yoga, and I was about to take a nap,” I said. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Sal shook his kitty head and said, “Yoga? Boy, you are one crazy canine. If you want some deep spiritual cleansing, you first need to tend to your outside. Take a bath. That’ll do more for you than lying there all bunched up like a possum. The Savasana pose (the corpse) is what you’re gonna end up with if you keep up with this craziness.”
By now I was pretty exhausted. “Hey C-A-T, throw me my purple yoga yogi towel and leave me alone.” He did, and it landed right on my nose. That filthy thing has no respect for ancient traditions. I’d give him a good chasing, but it’s going to take me a while to get out of these things.