My back has gone out more times than I have this year, and honestly, the back has the better social life. It's always going somewhere — out while bending over, out while sneezing, out while reaching for a middle shelf that had no business being that heavy.
This bulldog gets it. Heating pad: deployed. That thousand-yard stare is the look of a spine betrayed by a sneeze — the body's most routine function, converted into a workers' comp incident.
The suspects: a pillow, a sneeze, sleeping in a position my spine found "disrespectful." And my favorite — nothing. Just standing there, vertical, when the back said "nope" and clocked out. If you need me, I'll be horizontal.