Glass Half Full
Have you ever said "Sure, no problem." and then immediately thought 'what in the Hell was I thinking?' I had that problem, only mine wasn't instantaneous. It took a few days for the realization that I was in way over my head to hit.
You see LeeLoo's aftercare instructions were pretty basic; limited activity until stitch removal in 7 days, 3 antibiotics a day, and a pain pill every other night. Simple right? Heck ya! I'm a pro, I've had all my dogs spayed or neutered and the restricted activity is the same.
She was still pretty sore, so she wasn't really interested in playing or running the first two days. She was content to simply pick up a toy and chew it for a little while. The biggest thing was Sugar was thrilled to have her playmate back and we had to keep stopping her from swinging toys in LeeLoo's face, trying to tempt her.
I'm not sure if I've said it before, but there are three steps down into the yard from the back porch and a full set of stairs up to the bedroom. Now I didn't want her pulling anything, she did have major surgery so I figured part of the restriction would include stair climbing, so she was carried all 500 times a day she wanted to go outside. I'm not complaining, I was so thrilled she was home and on the mend, I would have carried her up Mt. Everest, but at the time she was nearly 40 lbs.
Day three dawns beautifully, I woke up ready to enjoy another wonderful day and that was shattered before I even finished my first cup of coffee. My here to fore sweet precious angel was replaced in the night by a stark raving, ADHD having, meth addict! I carried her down the steps to the yard and she took off, honestly she would have given Jesse Owens a run for his money. So I'm screaming at her to stop running and attempting to chase her down. I'm sure you can imagine how that went since the closest I get to exercise is walking to my car. I finally figured out to bribe her with food, (don't judge me, I hadn't even had coffee yet, the brain wasn't firing too well), so I cut left on one of our laps around the yard and charged up the stairs and grabbed a bag of treats. I stepped on that porch like I was going to slay a dragon. I held the bag above my head, shook it, and yelled "LeeLoo want a cookie?", then I prayed. Ha, I was St. George and General Sherman all rolled into one.
She's panting like a beast, so I'm like yeah she's got to be tired. We get into the living room and I check her stitches and notice a bit of swelling but nothing I'm really concerned about. Now I can catch my breath. I'm not even sure if my heart rate had returned to normal by this point, but she channeled her inner W.W.F wrestler and did a flying squirrel at Sugar. As she slid down her side, Sugar lets out this demon like growl, and then LeeLoo latches on to her throat. I don't want to push LeeLoo around she just had surgery, so I'm trying to push Sugar out of the room and LeeLoo just keeps coming. So there I am 120 lbs in the middle of a snarling 200 lb wrestling match. I finally get Sugar out (over the next few days Sugar being thrown out is going to be common place.) LeeLoo then begins puppy zooming around the room. Well this time I don't have to run to catch her, just place myself strategically where I can reach out and snag her. I play a gentle game of tug with her and she's ready for a nap, does she lay on the dog pillow or on the floor? Nope, she jumps on the couch.
She napped for maybe a half hour and it started all over again. At this point, I was seriously reconsidering how confident I was in following her post op instructions. I'm not ashamed to ask for help though, so a call to the vet suggested maybe she's feeling too good from her whole pain pill the night before, let's cut it to 1/2 every night. Okay, that makes sense. I just have to get through the rest of the day. And oh what a day it was.
The next morning, I'm a little apprehensive but at heart I'm an optimist, so I got out of bed thinking 'today has to be better than yesterday!" You'd think I'd know by now the glass really is half full. She was worse. Another call to the vet, "give her up to 2 Benadryl, every 4 hours." Cool, so I dope her up as soon as I hang up the phone. I only gave her one to start, but an hour later and she wasn't even slowing down, she got another. Nothing, but again I'm still a foolish glass half full kinda girl, so I'm sure her next dose of 2 at once will do the trick. Really, anyone have a bridge they want to sell me. Two Benadryl every 4 hours for 2 days and you'd have thought I was feeding her crack.
Around three days after she came home, I noticed my back was giving me excruciating pain. Kids and animals straight to the doctor's for the sniffles me I better be dying. Well that's how bad my back hurt, I made an appointment. My doctor was listening to me describe my symptoms and she asked "has anything changed or are you doing anything different?" My response, " Not really, I mean my dog had surgery and needs to be carried up and down the steps, but she's only a puppy." She asked about the type of surgery and diagnosis, then she asked what kind of puppy. I told her and she nodded her head sagely, grabbed her prescription pad, and said that'll do it. "Stop carrying her!"
I know there were times I was I was close to tears and I was counting down until she got her stitches out. Chuckie and I fought, Sugar thought we hated her, and the kids didn't get a home cooked meal in days. But the day was finally here, stitches were coming out and then we were going to take her to the park for a family reunion. The first bad omen was I got the appointment time mixed up and missed it. I could go up any time though, so we hopped in the car and were driving towards freedom. Second bad omen, the parking lot was packed and everyone needed x-rays, we were going to be there a while. By a while I mean like 2 hours. The only good thing I can say is you know how well your dog was treated at the animal hospital when they are thrilled to be back after spending 5 days there.
Two hours later, and it's our turn. I was secretly signing patriotic songs in my head, because freedom was on it's way. Everything looked good, she did have a slight hemotoma from being to active, but Doc wasn't worried about it. The stitches came out, she got her rabies shot, and we're getting ready to walk out of the exam room when I need confirmation of my freedom, "She can do whatever she wants to do now right?" Yeah, you guessed it my taste of freedom was just a fantasy. "She had major surgery, and even though she feels good and thinks she can do whatever she wants, she doesn't know what's good for her, so at least another week of restrictions. No running and chasing a ball or jumping." So that obviously excludes playing with Sugar. I really think a tear slipped out. I'm not weak or a crier, but 7 more days of attempting to keep a cracked up toddler inactive was cry worthy.
