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 something on a middle shelf that had no business being that heavy.
This bulldog understands completely. Heating pad deployed. Expression of a creature who has seen the floor from very close up, unexpectedly, while doing nothing at all. That thousand-yard stare is the stare of a spine betrayed by a sneeze — the body's most routine function, turned into a workers' comp incident.
The list of suspects reads like a parody of an active lifestyle: a pillow, a sneeze, sleeping in a position my spine found "disrespectful." And my favorite — nothing. Just standing there, being vertical, when the back said "nope" and clocked out. If you need me, I'll be horizontal.