Why my back will not heal

    Sibley (the blur on the left) is a pit bull/boxer mix, yet another of my son's rescues.   Sam (the jaws on the right) is a leaping loon and has been discussed at length in previous posts.  Sibley is exceedingly sweet unless she comes across a smaller dog, then she becomes a threshing machine.  They actually get along well.  The above fray, with gnashing of teeth, usually is in good fun.  The kind Cain and Abel had.
    My son is away in Istanbul, Budapest and Vienna, leaving the little dears in my care. The double leash my son supplied extends six feet in opposite directions.  Using this,I  become the object of a truck pull.  Or the rack.  Then they run laps around me as if I were a May Pole, neatly ensnaring me.  One good push and I am down for the kill.
    In anticipation of their two week stay, I purchased a combination "wacky walkr" that claims to reduce pulling.  It does keep them abreast but that intensifies their ability to drag elderly objects. 

Rant

   How much backup is too much backup?  As a person who spends most of her waking hours searching for lost items, I believe in backup. I wish regular life had a search engine.   Last year I bought a 2 tetrabyte external hard drive.   (Mathematically speaking, I think that means a gazillion-willion bytes, more that a mortal could possibly use.)  I admit I was smug about my backup.  To free up space on my hard drive (I have an extraordinary number of images stored), I would just transfer files to the external hard drive and put the originals in the trash. 
   It will come as no surprise to anyone but myself that my external hard drive died.  The tech said, 'well you have backup for it, right?'
   'Back up for my backup? How could I, every damn portal on the computer is filled, where would I plug in another back up?'
   'No,' he replied, 'backed up on your computer.'  This  rapidly devolved into a bad "who's on first?" routine.
   It has not been a good day.