It’s been a good week. It’s been a bad week. Like any other week, I guess, but the lows did seem a bit lower than the highs did high.
First off, our patient is resting comfortably and more or less patiently. Maybe a tad less patiently than the week before. The infrastructure has held up (thank you thank you Victoria and Alexandra), and we got to see a bit of progress at the second post-op appointment on Thursday.
The trip to LA and back is always hard on the CE, not to mention the after-effects of having the cast removed and the wound examined. However, while the incision continues to present a wonderful opportunity for “scariest special effects”, it looked MUCH better this week than last. The doc decided to allow two more weeks of healing before we return and (hopefully) the sutures will be removed and the clunky cast will get traded out for something that weighs less than a cinder block.
The pets have predictably managed to adapt to the new and varied living and sleeping arrangements. Soho has become quite attached to Alexandra, and, of course, Dizzy continues to woo Victoria at every opportunity.
Unfortunately, there has been bad news along with the good. Earlier in the week, we noticed that Amelia was moving slowly and reluctantly, which meant yet another visit to the vet for her. The vet didn’t find anything systemic; an x-ray revealed some degeneration to her hip so she was prescribed an anti-inflammatory medication. Somewhere along the line she apparently injured the hip and the vet surmised that she then sustained some kind of acute trauma that makes it painful to walk. Yesterday I noticed some darkened bumps on her feet and hoped it might mean that bumblefoot might be the problem. Victoria and I took her in for a re-check, and the vet wrapped her feet, but said that she has seen chickens with far worse lesions on their feet still walking comfortably. We’ve doubled the anti-inflammatory dose, but Amelia is not moving, and as of this morning, she is not eating. I am very concerned for her and I think we have to be prepared for the worst.
The toughest news of the week, however, was the call we received from Pollo Amiga telling us that her beloved Tahoe had been diagnosed with an aggressive and fatal form of cancer. Tahoe enjoyed fifteen active and happy years of life, which is a good run for a dog, but had faltered considerably in the past week. The decision was wisely made to spare her further suffering, and I was fortunate to be there to help say goodbye to her. Tahoe was a good dog – we will all miss her!
A fitting dog quote I found:
“He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds. He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me… whenever… wherever – in case I need him. And I expect I will – as I always have. He is just my dog.”