Patchwork puppy
Tater had surgery yesterday to remove a few of those weird little lumps that dogs get. The vet said it wasn't really necessary to do anything about them, but because of their location (right up under his armpits) they would've gotten in his way if they ever got very big, and by then it would be much more difficult, painful and dangerous to take them off. Since he had to go under anesthesia for the surgery anyway, I figured we might as well do all the other things he hates to have done – so they scaled and polished his teeth, removed a couple of little warts (one on his elbow, one on his back), shaved his feet, gave him a pedicure and cleaned his, um, glands ... the ones you know need to be cleaned when your dog starts to skootch his butt across the carpet. All this came to a grand total of just over eight hundred bucks, and worth every penny, I suppose, for the peace of mind of knowing he has a totally clean bill of health, though my heart did sink a bit when I heard the total.
He was still a little out of it when I picked him up, and he cried all the way home in the car, whether from pain or anxiety or relief I couldn't tell. As soon as we got home he went straight to my bed and tried to jump up, but couldn't quite make it all the way. I lifted him in and he collapsed into a pile of pillows with a deep sigh, so happy to be home that it almost made me cry. I stretched out next to him on the bed and he leaned back against me and fell asleep instantly.
Mr. A, as usual, took the utmost good care of both of us, opening the windows for fresh air, pulling the curtains closed to darken the room, turning on the little Christmas lights so we could still see, cooking up a special "dog hospital" dinner of cottage cheese and chicken (on the vet's recommendation), and holding a little cup of water for him to sip (he hadn't been allowed anything to drink since early that morning, but our post-op instructions said to limit his food and water until the day after surgery).
Today we are all feeling much better, though his shaved spots and stitches make him look a little scary. We spent most of the day lounging around in bed, and in the sun, and then inside on the couch. I'm having some of the worst cramps I've had in my life, so it's been nice to be able to be at home instead of hunched over my desk at work. Speaking of which, I've been totally swamped at my office for a couple of weeks, still doing all of my regular work as well as (now) my new art director stuff. There are a lot of frustrations right now but overall I'm enjoying the change.
Enjoying it, but also feeling kind of surreal and overwhelmed, and not much like doing any writing about any of it. Last week I had a major meltdown (PMS-driven, of course) in which I arrived home from work hungry and late, expecting dinner, found no dinner and the dishes undone, and imploded into a hideous rage/despair that was only calmed by stalking up and down the yard for twenty minutes, then sitting in my big blue chair for another twenty minutes, all in the dark, in the rain (after first washing the dishes, which only took about five minutes to do – certainly no task worthy of my reaction to it). Sometimes I swear my hormones can make me feel like a totally different person, one I'm glad doesn't come around very often.
Tonight I am watching a strange old black and white movie on PBS, in which Marlene Dietrich has her trousers leg ripped off (exposing one truly amazing gam, va va voom) by some sex-crazed soldiers in a seedy post-war waterfront bar – all while playing the accordion and singing. She's pretty fabulous.
He was still a little out of it when I picked him up, and he cried all the way home in the car, whether from pain or anxiety or relief I couldn't tell. As soon as we got home he went straight to my bed and tried to jump up, but couldn't quite make it all the way. I lifted him in and he collapsed into a pile of pillows with a deep sigh, so happy to be home that it almost made me cry. I stretched out next to him on the bed and he leaned back against me and fell asleep instantly.
Mr. A, as usual, took the utmost good care of both of us, opening the windows for fresh air, pulling the curtains closed to darken the room, turning on the little Christmas lights so we could still see, cooking up a special "dog hospital" dinner of cottage cheese and chicken (on the vet's recommendation), and holding a little cup of water for him to sip (he hadn't been allowed anything to drink since early that morning, but our post-op instructions said to limit his food and water until the day after surgery).
Today we are all feeling much better, though his shaved spots and stitches make him look a little scary. We spent most of the day lounging around in bed, and in the sun, and then inside on the couch. I'm having some of the worst cramps I've had in my life, so it's been nice to be able to be at home instead of hunched over my desk at work. Speaking of which, I've been totally swamped at my office for a couple of weeks, still doing all of my regular work as well as (now) my new art director stuff. There are a lot of frustrations right now but overall I'm enjoying the change.
Enjoying it, but also feeling kind of surreal and overwhelmed, and not much like doing any writing about any of it. Last week I had a major meltdown (PMS-driven, of course) in which I arrived home from work hungry and late, expecting dinner, found no dinner and the dishes undone, and imploded into a hideous rage/despair that was only calmed by stalking up and down the yard for twenty minutes, then sitting in my big blue chair for another twenty minutes, all in the dark, in the rain (after first washing the dishes, which only took about five minutes to do – certainly no task worthy of my reaction to it). Sometimes I swear my hormones can make me feel like a totally different person, one I'm glad doesn't come around very often.
Tonight I am watching a strange old black and white movie on PBS, in which Marlene Dietrich has her trousers leg ripped off (exposing one truly amazing gam, va va voom) by some sex-crazed soldiers in a seedy post-war waterfront bar – all while playing the accordion and singing. She's pretty fabulous.
2 Comments:
You're pretty fabulous! I'm touched by the care and love you devote to Tater, and the care with which you write about him.
Also, I've always love the fact that you use Christmas lights all year round.
i wish my mom had gotten the pit-lumps taken off her lab buddy before they got so big. i don't think she realized they would get so big, and now he's kind of uncomfortable, though the lumps themselves don't seem to hurt. poor buddy, when he lays on his side, the top leg sort of floats in space because the lump won't let it fall all the way to lay against his other leg. kinda pitiful looking. :-(
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