First the yelp of pain as she ran up the hill. That made my heart skip a beat. Then there was the limping and crying before we got her to the vet. After that was the purple cast, the sedatives, and the threats of surgery. Our fears were quelled the next week when the pink cast was applied, and the suggestion of surgery was squashed. So we settled in for the long run… 12 weeks living with a three-legged, cast-thumping dog.
Then she started licking at the leg. Try as we might, we couldn’t deter her from going at it. She licked at the top of the cast. Then she licked at the bottom of the cast. She turned the cast into a soggy mess.
Another visit with the vet this morning. We’re becoming the best of friends….
That is until this morning. This morning I was scolded. You see, yesterday it poured. Rained all day. When it rains, the backyard floods. And the backyard is where Kula does her business…
Well anyways, her cast was soaked through from the rain and from all the licking. When the vet removed the cast, her leg was completely inflamed. A nasty cut where the cast was digging into her foreleg, made worse by the soggy condition of her cast/splint. Her paw pad is also red and inflamed from the bottom of the cast.
So now, for at least the next week, she has no cast.
Instead she has a clear, plastic bucket. With this bucket, she’s truly showing herself to be her mother’s daughter: a complete and total Klutz. She bumps into walls and couches, gets stuck on doorjambs, knocks over her food and water bowls, and walks with a head a-wobblin like one of those plastic/velvet bobble-head dogs taped to your grandma’s dashboard.
As she figures out once again how to navigate with her new handicap, I watch with a mixture of horror, pity, misery, and laughter. Yes, laughter. I’m sorry, but it’s so sad it’s funny. I can’t help but laugh while tears run down my cheeks.
Looking at her, I’m reminded of two images: an astronaut’s dog, or the boy in the bubble.
I’m going to hell, I know.
Once again, where’s the digital camera when I need it?
So for the next week, she is supposed to be either sedated or kenneled. And when I take her out for her (ahem) business, we have to use a leash. I know she feels this is a violation of her privacy.
By the end of the week, we’ll both be going crazy.