On The Mend
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We've missed our daily walks, me and the little surgery patient. The walks have continued without us. The trails have dried up nicely in the ravine, and I get daily reports from my husband who has continued to walk with our Button, and who tells me he has already seen a few Mourning Cloaks where they usually show up at this time of year in the ravine.
Riley is on the mend. Yesterday the general veterinarian examined him and said he was doing fine, but suggested we return today to have his shunt removed; another day with it in place for the serum and blood to run freely would be a good thing.
We're all for good things, so returned with him today and the tubing was removed. Next on the agenda, some six days hence will be having his stitches removed, the whole long line of them. Until then, Riley will continue wearing his baby sleeper to ensure he doesn't lick his wound and in the process pull the stitches asunder, so he won't heal properly. We're not anxious for a return to the operating table, the anaesthetic and another trauma. His most recent trauma is still fresh enough in his memory.
Sufficiently so that when we're only half-way to the veterinarian hospital he seems to sense it. He tenses and exhales a little whine, which grows steadily until it's clear to us how unhappy he is at the prospect of an imminent return to the source of his separation from us and the ensuing pain, post-surgery. We're really pleased beyond words at his progress, his amenability, his swift return to normal. And we've no reason to feel worried at this juncture that his physical rehabilitation will be compromised. We plan to all jaunt off as usual on our daily rambles in the ravine.
When he hears my husband suggest it's time for the ravine walk post-breakfast his ears pick up and he stations himself near the back door, waiting for our exit. Since his operation he's become somewhat accustomed to watching my husband and Button exit, leaving him (and me) behind. He could be happier about that, but the solution lies a mere few days ahead. We'll likely venture for a brief walk in the ravine with him even before his sutures are removed, as long as we can be assured he'll behave, while there. And he generally does.
It's a tremendous relief to know that he is now without that large lipoma clinging to his underside and growing at that impossibly incremental rate. He's now a normal, and healthy little dog. He no longer seems as disposed to spending as much time sleeping during the course of the day. He's infinitely more alert, certainly more awake more often. He'll continue his antibiotic protocol for another few weeks, and it will all be left behind us as he resumes the normal activity of a seven-year-old little dog.
We've missed our daily walks, me and the little surgery patient. The walks have continued without us. The trails have dried up nicely in the ravine, and I get daily reports from my husband who has continued to walk with our Button, and who tells me he has already seen a few Mourning Cloaks where they usually show up at this time of year in the ravine.
Riley is on the mend. Yesterday the general veterinarian examined him and said he was doing fine, but suggested we return today to have his shunt removed; another day with it in place for the serum and blood to run freely would be a good thing.
We're all for good things, so returned with him today and the tubing was removed. Next on the agenda, some six days hence will be having his stitches removed, the whole long line of them. Until then, Riley will continue wearing his baby sleeper to ensure he doesn't lick his wound and in the process pull the stitches asunder, so he won't heal properly. We're not anxious for a return to the operating table, the anaesthetic and another trauma. His most recent trauma is still fresh enough in his memory.
Sufficiently so that when we're only half-way to the veterinarian hospital he seems to sense it. He tenses and exhales a little whine, which grows steadily until it's clear to us how unhappy he is at the prospect of an imminent return to the source of his separation from us and the ensuing pain, post-surgery. We're really pleased beyond words at his progress, his amenability, his swift return to normal. And we've no reason to feel worried at this juncture that his physical rehabilitation will be compromised. We plan to all jaunt off as usual on our daily rambles in the ravine.
When he hears my husband suggest it's time for the ravine walk post-breakfast his ears pick up and he stations himself near the back door, waiting for our exit. Since his operation he's become somewhat accustomed to watching my husband and Button exit, leaving him (and me) behind. He could be happier about that, but the solution lies a mere few days ahead. We'll likely venture for a brief walk in the ravine with him even before his sutures are removed, as long as we can be assured he'll behave, while there. And he generally does.
It's a tremendous relief to know that he is now without that large lipoma clinging to his underside and growing at that impossibly incremental rate. He's now a normal, and healthy little dog. He no longer seems as disposed to spending as much time sleeping during the course of the day. He's infinitely more alert, certainly more awake more often. He'll continue his antibiotic protocol for another few weeks, and it will all be left behind us as he resumes the normal activity of a seven-year-old little dog.
Labels: Companions
posted by Pieface @ 1:27 PM
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