Alpha Mom thought it best if I pop this one out as this week is a really full one for her. Here’s a sampling (and I’m not even including all the papers she keeps sending to the printer):
She’s got the yurt guy coming to make a few adjustments and add a screen door.
She’s got a lunchtime workshop that will teach her the legal stuff of owning her own business up here in the Green Mountains.
She’s trying to get a new septic system installed. It’s frankly beyond me as to why they need such a thing, but she seems to think it’s important.
The shingles on our stone house are getting painted yellow, except the paint store guy says he can’t sell us yellow exterior paint because he can’t guarantee it will last more than two years. She’s on the phone a lot.
Our new batch of baby dinosaurs arrived last week and Alpha Mom is down at the barn a couple times a day checking on them. Five more weeks to go and they can go outside where I take over.
I’m not sure how I’m going to help with the foxes and the coyotes. The bears don’t eat chicken, so they’re no problem. But I’m concerned I’ll not be able to keep the foxes away. They’re the real problem with raising chickens up here.
I’m concerned, you see, because I’m restricted again in how far I can travel on my own. Yes, they have me back on a leash. It’s a long leash and it’s tied under a nice big tree. But it means I can’t run after stuff. I don’t really mind; I love being outside. I generally stay put anyway. Unless a bear comes back. Or those foxes. Or the chipmunks.
Remember that TPLO surgery I had last fall? I wrote about it in Sasha Weighs In. Then Alpha Mom wrote the update called, not very creatively, An Update On Sasha. I thought her update was really more about her than about me. Something about making difficult decisions.
Anyway, a few days after my cousin Metzli went home (he came with Alpha Mom’s son Jon and his family) she noticed me limping. I’d been running in the woods with Alpha Pop while he did some logging and everyone had forgotten all about that old surgery and how I’m no longer allowed to go to Agility Classes and I guess I just got too much activity in too short a time.
Alpha Mom and Pop were afraid I’d popped the T off my PLO (or something like that). So, when Alpha Mom realized I wasn’t sleeping that night, she took me to the emergency vet folks over in New Hampshire, the ones who stay awake all night just to be available for
folks like me. Err, dogs like us? Err, families that need them.
After the vet felt my hips and knees and legs, she gave me a really powerful injection, sent us home with pills, and told Alpha Mom to make an appointment for a surgery consult.
Last Wednesday, the day after the pills were gone, we piled into the car and drove across the state to the folks at the PEAK Veterinary Referrel Center. They do surgery there and rehabilitation therapy and behavior therapy and dermatology even. And a whole lot more.
Fortunately, I only needed an Xray, which was a lot of fun, especially in the beginning. The technician thought she was going to have to lift me onto the Xray table. I weigh 85 pounds, you know, and that didn’t seem right. So, I just jumped up on the table by myself. You should have seen the look on her face! I wished I could do it again for her. She was nice.
Here’s the X-ray they took:
I have a very handsome knee and, as it turns out, a perfectly intact TPLO repair.
My leg has healed so well, I don’t even need to have that metal plate inside me anymore. But, it would be quite stressful to take it out, so they usually just leave it in. I wonder how I’d fare going though one of those security cameras at the airports? The way my Alphas hate to fly these days (they used to love it; now they say they don’t like being treated like sardines) I’ll probably never find out. That’s fine with me.
These are the possibilities of what my problem is.
*arthritis (degenerative; nothing to be done except moderate and regular activity)
*torn meniscus (oh dear)
*inflammation due to the metal inside me (uh oh)
And, as alpha mom likes to say, Time Will Tell. Two weeks worth of time, as it turns out.
Don’t feel bad for me. I’m getting more attention, better grooming, and much better food than ever. They need to make sure I eat so they can give me this tiny little — but really, really great — pill. Life is really, really great on this pill. Even the dry food I normally get is yummy, thanks to the wet food they now add to it (because of the pill I have to take). Sometimes it’s got salmon in it; sometimes turkey; sometimes chicken. I don’t really have a favorite. It’s all good. Did I tell you how great this pill is?
Plus I get all you nice folks listening to me tell my story.
The Alphas and I want to thank those of you who inquired about me and wished me well. I definitely felt those good vibrations flowing my way (and that wasn’t just because of the pill).
If you have any questions, ask away. (I’ve gotten the hang of this keyboard now: just tapping away with my claws.) Next week, we’ll know even more. Except I can’t tell you because Alpha Mom insists she wants to write about the visit she had with her new brother.
“You’re an only child,” I reminded her. She just smiled and said, “I was an only child for 67 years and then I wasn’t.” I think he’s coming to dinner tonight. I’ll check him out for you.