Thursday, May 26, 2011

The Three Legged Dog...

Poor Daisie -- she REALLY did it this time...
At about one year of age, Daisie partially tore her ACL, right rear knee. It's been a weak spot ever since. Whenever she plays hard -- chasing, jumping, making lateral moves, and 360's(you would be amazed at what boxers can do!) -- she ends up limping for a few days. She is put on enforced rest, no easy task, and the problem resolves...

A week ago, she came in from her wanderings in the field, carrying her leg, obviously miserable. We have no idea what she did this time, but whatever it was finished things off in that joint, and surgery was unavoidable.

So yesterday, I brought her to the vet -- not her favorite place in the world -- and when I left she was shaking with nervousness. Of course, only "animal people", as I call them, work in the vet's office, so the assistant was very sweet to my nervous Daisie as she took her back
 to The Great Unknown and Likely Not Fun Place.

I am pleased to report that I maintained my composure and acted like "this is just a dog and I do not need to act as if my child were going under the knife"...

But: MY CHILD WAS GOING UNDER THE KNIFE!! And I spent a restless, unproductive day wondering about her...

I admit it: I am an avowed Dog Lover and dedicated Animal Lover, with few exceptions (ferrets and reptiles are 2 of them).  I joke that we got our boxer because the kids would no longer let me cut their meat, and I needed someone to mother. The truth is, of course, that I hadn't cut their meat for a long time, but they WERE more than happy to see me mother someone other than them.

And I was happy to do it. 

They do think I am a bit overdone on the dog-mothering thing -- especially when I speak for Daisie (I am known as "The Voice of Dog"...). However, when they consider the alternative, they refrain from turning my attention off the dog and on to them.

My dog obsession and highly anthropomorphic imagination can be blamed on my dad, who got a dog for the farm on my first birthday. Of course, I interpreted this as getting a dog for ME. We named her Happy, for Happy Birthday, and she was with us for 13 years, through two farm moves, and she contributed to my life a love that has stayed with me, and will forever...

PUPPIES!!!


Back in those days, you didn't spay your dog, and there was always a home for the puppies that resulted. Over her lifetime, Hap had 97 puppies (yes, we kept track) and I loved (and wanted to live with) each one of them. I still love the smell of puppies -- and no wonder when you consider the scenes above. Oh! Those were happy days...

So yesterday, when the dog who lives with me now, was not at home, and "under the knife", I was just out of sorts. Things around here were not right... I am so blessed to have a house dog now! I had to wait 42 years for that, and I love it!)
I admit it, Daisie's my baby...

My family is just grateful that she's too big for me to carry in a purse.

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About Me

Needing an outlet for various thoughts rattling in my head, I've created two blogs -- One about my real life (leslieisverbose.blogspot.com) and one where I can vent. (leslievents.blogspot.com)