I did not, either, expect Cooper to "walk" out of the hospital. But here he came, hopping along, wagging his tail slightly as if it was too much to ask him to wag and walk at the same time. Kudos to the canid sense of survival, determination and, as it seems, payback.
I expected an almost completely shaved dog with huge incisions and the basic "Frankendog" appearance. I will not say it is pretty, but it is not anything similar to that which my ever overworking imagination had predicted.
He looks very uncomfortable but he isn't. He may be gorked but getting used to the innertube has been a chore. At first I thought he might not need anything but by the second day he was paying passing attention to the incision. We are NOT going to prolong the healing time by letting him at it. The Bassets learned quickly it was not for examination. They also learned that Cooper may be gimpy but he hasn't lost his sense of Alpha-ism. By day 2 they were carefully respecting his space. Gradually, I see that eroding as they become used to this strange apparition.
I have learned that Boy Belgians DO NOT WANT HELP when they go out to pee. Despite falling over and over his solution is simply not to pee. This is driving me crazy but if I touch him he won't go either, and I mean TOUCH him, anywhere.
I have learned that walking a three-legged dog in your pajamas and coat and muck boots in the morning when the kiddies are lining up for the school bus probably gives them something to talk about on the ride.
I have learned that despite my feelings before the surgery and during it, Life goes On.
I have been taught once again that Friends and relatives can be everything. That they can mean the difference between the depths of despair and the latitudes of hope.
And that a good Vet is worth her weight in gold.
