Wet Wednesday : Life With Dogs on a Migraine Day

A Rude Awakening

The pain pulsed in my right temple before I’d even opened my eyes. Fleck’s morning bark echoed through the house, punctuated by the steady patter of rain against the window. It’s a familiar wake‑up call, but today’s headache had that unmistakable weight — the kind that settles in for the day.

I rummaged through my bedside drawer for my tablets, swallowed one with a gulp of water, and sat quietly while John headed downstairs. He soon returned with a cup of tea, and I stayed in bed a little longer, hoping the medication would take the edge off. My routine would have to bend around my pain levels, which meant the dogs would miss their morning walk.

In the Grooming Salon

My first client arrived with two dogs for nail clipping — both with a history of fear around the process.

The first, a gorgeous border collie (I admit my bias), bounded in with enthusiasm and hopped onto the table with barely any coaxing. His guardian fed him his breakfast piece by piece while I worked with the electric grinder. Wrapped snugly in his calming wrap, he handled the whole thing beautifully, only becoming mildly unsettled when he had to turn away from the treat pot. Once we repositioned the treats within view, he relaxed again. Typical collie logic.

Next came his little sidekick, a papillon with a much deeper fear of nail clipping. We secured him with a “happy harness” and the reassuring presence of his guardian’s hands. He managed three paws with only a few murmurs of protest before his distress began to rise. We stopped there — his progress has been too hard‑won to risk pushing him backwards. Sometimes success is knowing when to pause.

With an hour and a half before my next appointment, the nausea and throbbing pain were becoming harder to ignore. I settled in the lounge with a hot drink, hoping the medication would finally kick in. The dogs lay quietly on their beds, unusually calm for a morning without exercise. Perhaps the grey weather — or simply sensing I wasn’t myself — signalled that today was a rest day.

After a while, I let them into the garden. Jill grabbed a ball, Kaytee positioned herself to herd her, and Cora bounced at her heels, barking for a chase. Jill kept dropping the ball at my feet, ever hopeful, but aside from a couple of gentle lobs, she was out of luck.

Jill, Cora & Kaytee in the garden on a wet day

My next client arrived for a bath, clip, and teeth clean — a regular, cooperative boy who makes the job easy. Still, by the time we finished, I felt awful. I messaged my final client to reschedule and closed early.

The rain’s steady rhythm on the conservatory roof was a quiet companion as I stepped back inside the house.  The dogs gathered around me, eyes bright with anticipation for my company. 

I rummaged through the treat cupboard,  fingers closing around a handful of thick goat braids.  Each dog took their chew, eagerly running to settle on their beds and enjoy them.  The dogs gnawed contentedly, and I closed my eyes, grateful for the brief pause in the day’s demands.

Jill enjoying her Chew

A Quiet Evening

John came home to find me curled up in bed, eye mask on, head resting against a hot water bottle. He spent the evening downstairs with the dogs, popping in now and then to offer a drink or check whether I felt up to eating.

Living with a small pack of high‑energy dogs means structure and routine, but it also requires flexibility — for them and for me. Some days, boredom is part of the plan. Today, that flexibility paid off. The dogs coped beautifully with a slow, uneventful day.

With luck, I’ll make it up to them tomorrow.