So, Lexi’s home and all is (crossed fingers!) well with her little operation. But as the assistant went over her after-procedure care instructions with me, it became very clear that Lexi must have performed at least one or two inside tail-tucking sessions and they fully intended to get back at me for all the trouble she caused. This is what she said to me. “You have to keep her quiet and calm until the weekend.” I looked at her and studied her face for signs of a sly grin beginning to emerge. I waited to share a giggle or a healthy guffaw at that one. It was going to be great to get a really healthy belly laugh out. I hadn’t laughed like I was going to laugh at this one in days and this was good stuff, baby. But, you guys, she was totally serious. Totally. I looked at her and said, “Come again? Have you met this dog? Can I take her for some quiet, controlled walks to help her work out some of that pent up energy?” She said, “No.” I waited for some ideas. I gave her the encouraging look. I got nothing. And it was clear that she wanted to help. She just had nothing for me. They actually like Lexi, and though she is a “spirited” puppy, they are always happy to see her. But, she had nothing. Basically, good luck getting through this, lady.
When I got home, I read through the rest of the instructions and saw that I was supposed to do the compress thing again. Oh great! OH HAPPY DAY!!! That went like gangbusters the last time I had that assignment, so yippee and huzzah! A little farther down as you’d expect, it says to discourage the dog from licking the incision site. Duh, of course. But, talk about asking for the near-impossible….
So, this morning, I expected Lexi to still be feeling a little slow since the operation was just yesterday. I expected that tomorrow and Friday would be my days of hell. But, no buddy. Lexi is an overachiever. This morning she is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. When I took her out for her morning constitutional on her leash, she moseyed over to the outside bin where we keep her training toys and looked at me suggestively. Like, you’d best be grabbing that toy and giving it a good toss so I can get to fetching. I’ve got at least three tail-tucking sessions scheduled for 9, so we’ve got to get moving, mom. Also, I’m going to follow up my tail-tucking sessions with about an hour of licking my incision. I’ll probably nap after that giving you at least some time where you can be off duty. Enjoy that time because the entire cycle starts again after my nap. Love ya, mom. Also? I still haven’t forgiven you for letting them cut me.
COME ON WEEKEND!!!!
Is it disrespectful to call her spay the ol’ snipperoo? If so, my sincere apologies. Lexi isn’t allowed food this morning before we drop her off. That’s a major affront to a lab puppy, and she has let us know in no uncertain terms that this is unacceptable. There have been multiple instances of inside tail tucking. We’ve all held onto each other and waited for them to end. After each break with reality, she’s ended up on the floor panting and looking around as if to say, “Was I responsible for all that mayhem?” Our faces give her a swift affirmative answer. She then begins to remember that she hasn’t received her breakfast yet, and suggestively leads us to her food bowl to begin the routine all over again. The routine goes like this:
- Lexi goes over to her food bowl and looks inside. She sees there is no food in there. She looks around and notices that nobody is there beside her to feel the despair that she is feeling.
- Lexi makes some noise and waits for someone to come over to join her at her food bowl. We don’t comply because we are laying low. This is round 2. We learned our lesson in round 1.
- Lexi comes over to us and gives us the EYES. It works because we know she won’t stop. We solemnly walk over to her food bowl with her to view the sad display that is an empty food bowl. We try to explain to her that she is not allowed to eat before the “procedure” but all she hears is “my human pack members hate me and want me to die why won’t they feed me they already don’t feed me all day long which is bad enough now they aren’t feeding me in the morning like they should they are the worst human pack members ever.”
- Lexi tries to move her bowl around a couple of times as a last ditch effort to make sure we are getting the message in case we are just really really stupid.
- We all leave the room because the silence has become uncomfortable, and we want to escape the EYES.
- Lexi begins the tail tuck process.
- Lather, rinse, repeat.
I have no idea how the poor, unsuspecting people at the vet’s office are going to deal with this madness. I really love our vet, so I’m going to play dumb when we take her in and hope she doesn’t subject them to a tail tuck episode.
UPDATE: She’s home!! Just like our last dog, Nikki, did after she was spayed, Lexi won’t look at me or speak to me. Every time I tried to catch her eyes on the way home to communicate my sympathy, she’d look the other way. She’s clearly in pain, so I wouldn’t give me the time of day either. If I could speak her language, I would tell her that it’s killing me to see her in pain. I doubt that would make her feel better though.
Um, I’m a little concerned. Or, I don’t know if I should be concerned. OK, I’ll tell you the situation, and you tell me if I should be concerned. I was at the vet’s office getting a check-up after my visit to the joint and I heard my human mom talking to the doc about some “procedure” that was coming up. I heard them talking about how this “procedure” used to result in an overnight stay for the dog, but now the dog can go home the same day. Then the conversation became a little alarming. The doc said this was because the drugs used to make the dog throw up, and so it was important to have someone checking on the dog to make sure that the STITCHES didn’t come out when the dog threw up. Let me say that again: STITCHES!!! Does anyone know what “procedure” this is and if I should be planning to run away from home? I want no part of these STITCHES, and this “procedure” is scheduled for July 16th so I need to get some planning done pretty quickly if I need to vamoose.
Lexi requests and receives many belly rubs a day. So, on Friday when I got back from a meeting, rubbed her belly and discovered a giant nodule, it was very easy to determine how long it had been there. Not long. When I encountered this fancy new growth she had been feverishly working on in my absence, I immediately began to panic. And credit must be given. When that dog grows something alien on her body, she really puts her all into it. So I called the vet and breathlessly explained that I have a dog who is sprouting things from her belly at a frightening rate of speed, and I needed to get her in the office right away before she starts sprouting appendages or extra eyeballs or something horrifying that I haven’t even thought of because I don’t know how I’d handle that type of medical marvel, but it won’t be gracefully. I’d probably just open the back door and gently nudge her outside with my shoe, slam the door quickly and begin tunelessly whistling, bustling about ineffectively and muttering nonsensical phrases until another family member got home. Anyway, the vet’s office told me to come on in. I thanked them so effusively that I think they just hung up because they had other patients to attend to. Relax, already, lady. You’ll be here in 20 minutes and we’ll get this growth identified and fixed. Chill and get moving. So, I got Lexi in the car and over to the office. When we met with the vet, he stuck a needle in the growth to get some cells to look at and said, “Hmmm! Interesting.” Fortunately, he quickly explained that he was pretty sure what it was and that it wasn’t serious. After he studied the cells in the back, he came back to report that Lexi had fashioned herself a pretty fine abscess and just needed a round of antibiotics. They are in pill form, and he was showing me how to break the pill in two. I knew I could tuck something that tiny into her bowl of food and it would be easily ingested during the food inhalation process. Then he delivered the kicker. “You also need to apply a warm compress for five minutes two to three times a day.” Then he explained how to construct a warm compress. And here’s where it gets funny because while I received wonderful details on how to construct the warm compress, what I didn’t receive were details on how to pin down a puppy long enough to APPLY this wonderfully-constructed warm compress. Let’s face it: any idiot can construct a warm compress. The ability to pin down a puppy for 5 MINUTES? That’s a touch harder to accomplish. I believe he was giving me the details on the warm compress to distract me from the real issue at hand. If he kept me talking about something insignificant up until he could shuttle me out of the office, I wouldn’t think to ask, “Um dude, how in the world am I supposed to keep a squirming mess of puppy still for five minutes while I apply this TWO OR THREE TIMES A DAY?” It takes THREE of us to apply the damn compress, and we consider it a good day if we apply it twice a day. But, as I expected, the antibiotic is being sucked in with the rest of her food and she is none the wiser.
This is Lexi. I hijacked her blog temporarily because things are dire here. I’m an adorable puppy and I don’t appear to be getting my way. And by all accounts I’m at the height of my adorableness. So, you do the math. If I’m not getting my way now, the future looks very grim my friends.
Here’s the situation. I was taken to that place again. I initially thought I liked the place upon first meeting the people there. So friendly!! I was immediately offered a very tasty treat. But friends I must tell you that while I was enjoying that treat something very nasty was taking place around my hindquarters. They were placing an object in an area that things were not meant to be placed. I lunged forward with an obvious physical indicator of “HELLO, that is UNWELCOME,” but, alas, they continued with that unpleasantness. They offered me another treat, and while I hesitantly enjoyed it, a NEEDLE was jammed into my body!! Listen, it’s just unseemly the things that take place there while my family members look on as if all is just fine and dandy. Well guess what? It is anything but fine and dandy which I attempt to convey to my idiot family members with a myriad of puppy expressions, but those fools do not come to my aid. Now on to the latest injustice that occurred just a few days ago. I was listening in as they discussed me and in between all the blah blah blah she bites A LOT blah blah blah she seems to destroy toys at a rate previously unknown to veterinary science blah blah blah, I distinctly heard this: When should we move her to two meals a day? HOLY SHIT, friends! What fresh hell is this? They are going to stop feeding me; do you believe this madness? Circle the wagons!!!!! And I hear you all now. You want me to calm down and understand that they will feed me the same amount each day just portion it into fewer meals. But listen. I’M A LAB!!!! I WANT TO EAT ALL DAY LONG. THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME SANE IS LISTENING TO THE SWEET SOUND OF FOOD LANDING IN MY FOOD BOWL AND SUBSEQUENTLY DEVOURING THAT FOOD WHOLE. I see no future in a two meal a day schedule for me. I feel that three meals a day was a low bar in the first place, but I was forced to accept it since I wasn’t able to negotiate a better deal. And look where that complacency got me! I am now looking to you, my canine friends, for help. I expect your support, and I hope I can count on you to ration your food so that you may subsidize my meals. I will be in touch to discuss a delivery method and schedule.