It’s been one of those weeks.
For some reason the cutie below thinks she doesn’t need to follow doctor’s orders.
Where's my treat?
Why should she, she must be thinking, when I’m that cute.
Last week she had surgery. Major surgery. The usual spay (yes, we love to break our pets except for the unfortunate accident with Cosi), two teeth removed (why did she hang on to baby teeth?) and the biggy, the first knee repair.
Yes, this cute little dog, a terror on 4 paws, came with two stage 3 knees.
Surgery was a snap. Directions, meds and a happy to be home pup started last week off with a bang.
It’s also left me beating my head against the desk. Often.
“Keep the animal quiet for the next 5-7 days. Use a leash or a crate to assist with this.” Yeah. Right. Quiet? Does he know this pup? Never met a situation she wasn’t afraid of?
By day three I was swinging for the chandelier in frustration.
No jumping off furniture. See. Read the notes from the vet. Blink. Blink. Off she goes with her pain meds on board and a sedative too that didn’t slow her down.
No, why should it?
All I could see, after these few times she slipped on her orders are the knee, nicely fixed, nicely messed up. X-rays in 4 weeks.
I may have my sanity. It’s questionable.
Now if the fur on her widdle leg would just grow back a bit faster.
Plans for the weekend?
