cattle dog – freckled crab

Days 21-31

The cone. Is. OFF!

There has been much celebrating, in the form of rolling on the ground, biting ankles, biting toys, scavaging for rabbit poo, and barking just to bark. I think she wanted to burn the cone under the full moon and dance around it.

I was hesitant to take the cone off, but my husband said the stitches were done doing their thing, and most of the healing under the scab was done. It’s nice having a paramedic / EMT spousal unit. It’s like having a reference book you don’t have to carry around. And what am I a reference for? Well, if he is interested in story structure and genre and themes and the hero’s journey, well, he knows who to turn to.

Took the pups on a hike today. A new trail and I was getting quite bored. Trees rocks snow, kaaaaay. Then I met some people coming up the trail and they mentioned caves. Caves? Yes, I will cross the stream twice over slippery, crackling ice to see limestone caves. And we did.

Days 6 – 20

OMG you guys talk about out of sight out of mind! My posting completely fell off my radar dealing with holidays and dog injuries. But the cyst removed from Mayhem’s paw is NOT CANCER!!! Hooooraaaaayyyyyy!!!!!! My husband was so happy I think that if I had asked him to buy me a new car he would have said yes without a moment’s hesitation.

Things have settled down for now, but it was mayhem (ha ha) for a minute. And I was naughty. I had work due for my development editor, and I totally slacked. Well, went on an outlining tangent, and didn’t get my chapters done. She was forgiving about it but still didn’t want to meet until I completed what I was supposed to.

This is good. I get manic on things sometimes and cannot be indulged. That’s precisely why I need her.

Lessons learned from long-term dog coning:

Wrapping the dog’s foot to the point it becomes a mitten is a bad thing when the injury is supposed to breathe. Mayhem has a thick neck and slim head (better to bite your ankles with), so she would rear up, put her paws by her neck and push her cone off. Impressive and fancy raccoon work, the little shit.
Communicating to your vet that you were having cone problems is essential. I brought the cone, harness, collar, and duct tape to him, per his request. He then performed a tiny miracle. Photos below.
Use the sedation drugs.

Every. Single. Loop. Secured!!

They made bows out of duct tape. Bless their hearts.

I tried every dog bootie I had, and what worked the best was double-upped Ziploc bags and medical tape. The stretchy fabric kind. She couldn’t get her stitches wet because they would dissolve with moisture (hence the cone for no licky-licky), and of course, we had a big snowstorm and the snow is still hanging around. I’ve been through about two bags of Ziplocs.

At this point, the cone is beaten to crap and I’m hoping to get it off this weekend. Just waiting for the scab to fall off, but it’s locked on tight right now like a crusty barnacle.

When this cone comes off this girl deserves an all-day puppy party. For a dog that abhors people touching her feet, she has let me get all up in her foot business and has not once barked or whined about the cone. This girl is a champ.

Day 5

I had a funny observation earlier today, but I forgot what it was. I always think I’ll remember, and I never do
Skidded on ice during my drive into work this morning and almost hit a big moving van head on.
Had to change the dressing on Mayhem’s foot because I forgot to wrap it during a pee break. She snapped at me a couple times, but I did it!

Not their usual formation but I didn’t want to disturb the patient

Day 4

The high today was -2
The low today (will be in about 2 hours) -25
Mayhem’s surgery went well. Vet techs gave me all these instructions about what she can and cannot do, how much to eat, drink…but they couldn’t get her down the hall by themselves and she had already gotten out of her cone – I had to go get her LOL
Vet invoices already sent on to pet insurance. Hey, everyone, get pet insurance
Poor Olive wants to hike and walk, but the snow is so cold it burns, and when it hurts she doesn’t hold her paw up for help – she lays down in the snow. I had to drag all 70 lbs of her out of the unplowed cul-de-sac
I’m beat

I’m Still Here

Death was following me around for a little while, and I feel like I’m finally coming out of the dark. In 2020 my Labrador died slowly, then my Dad died quickly, then in 2021 my grandfather passed, and then a dog I adopted. All in less than a year.

My heart and my mind were heavy. Leaden, really. I knew in my head that others lost more, but it was still hard.

I don’t remember the holidays last year, or the ones the year before. Thank god I keep a planner otherwise I wouldn’t remember anything that happened or when. Everything is like in a big soup in my brain. That’s right, I was supposed to research trauma stages today and just remembered.

So that’s where I’ve been, in my Me-Soup. But what I’ve learned is: adopt another dog, it won’t be the same but they will still bring joy; and be a fierce and unapologetic advocate in a family members healthcare, no matter what doctors or facilities say.

But like I said, I’m seeing an end, and so a beginning. I’m thankful for my family, for two healthy pups, for bending over in laughter with my husband, for watching deer cross my lawn. You know. Small but big stuff.

Shut Up, Pants!

Did I quit running? I’m not sure if I did. I ran and ran for four years, and now? Meh.

It started with a Super Spartan, then Disney Princess runs and Star Wars runs – half marathons, 10ks, a couple of 5ks in there to keep me honest. But now….

I know I need something to train for. I can’t just run to run. With my impending move to a much higher altitude, I’m also intimidated. I have low blood pressure and heartbeat already – I’m afraid I’ll pass out somewhere along the road in a new town.

I can see it now, me laying on the side of a country road, slightly concussed, calling my husband.

“Come get me. I’m concussed.”

“Where are you?” He would say, already in the car.

“I don’t know.”

And woe is me if I had our cattle dog with me, his baby.

Excuses, you say? I agree. There is nothing easier than being middle-aged and lazy.

I have started to stalk online a running club in my new town, thinking it will get me running and social (I am terribly introverted and so is my husband. Peas in a pod!).

However, I have noticed that my excess chub isn’t melting away like it used to. Before I could just use the power of thought, but now, post 40, it seems things have changed. At least that’s what my pants keep saying, and boy are they vocal!

“Lunges. Remember lunges?”

“When’s the last time you did a sit up?”

“A lap around the block wouldn’t hurt ‘ya. Take the cattle dog.”

Pants are nags. Not like tops.

The tight armholes in my blouses are more like “Well, this is interesting”, and my jersey tees just talk behind my back with my bra, something about doing push-ups and maybe dips. Jersey tees are kind of passive-aggressive come to think of it.

The bra? She’s just doing her best. Definitely not an instigator.

Maybe I will. Maybe I will start running again, just to shut them up. Stupid clothes. At least my leggings and tech tees are supportive. They’ve been clamoring to get out of the drawer anyway.

Aforementioned baby.