As I’m writing this, it’s just past midnight of day 2 of the recovery suite life with Milo. Hubby’s in the tent gently, lovingly snoring away (insert eye roll here! :)). There’s a dim light in the corner of the desk, juusssttt giving out enough shadows so that everything looks creepy crawly. Pandora’s Ambient Radio is playing softly on my iPhone while Milo just whimpers. Every breath is a little whimper. Breaks my heart. Finally I think he’s asleep. No, wait, he’s going to lick his bad leg. Dude! You can’t touch that!
Day 2 progress: He slept pretty much all day. Got him up around 6 AM to pee. He walk/ran (what!?!) down the driveway, across the street to pee, or maybe just to run away from the pain, I’m not sure. So, we got him turned back around and headed to the gravel yard next to the driveway. He somehow managed to rest himself against a tree stump and pee. For a long time! Ok, good. All systems are working fine. Tried to get him to go out again and pee around 3 PM. That was a total fiasco!!!! OH. MY. GAWD!!!!! So we tried to direct and/or maneuver Milo back to the same tree stump to pee on, but no. He just laid down. And rested. So, we got him up again and he decided to walk/run back across the street and start to head downhill into the dune grass. Where he just collapsed…facing down hill..head first. What the hell!! Finally managed to get him turned around after 2 attempts, plus some neighbors stopping to check out his knarly scar. Bret and I are winded by this time. 143 pounds of dead weight is a lot to move around! Milo is so doped he just wants to lay there. So, gathering up the starch to – one more time – hoist him up. He yelps and starts to put his mouth on our hands as if saying “What the hell dude! That fuckin hurts”. Ok. Readjustment time. Moved the sling up his tummy more and 1, 2, 3, away we go! One fell swoop, Bret and I looped, swooped and pulled that bitch across the street, up the driveway and into the middle of the garage floor where we gently laid him down and he slept in that spot for the next 3 or 4 hours. (Sorry. Milo’s not really a bitch. I just had my adrenaline pumping so much AND he was really, really heavy!! So, at that one moment in time, he was a bitch!!) HA! As I wrote that last sentence, Milo moved his head and rested it on top of my foot…and sighed. He forgives me is what I think that means.
Until next time ~
**Update: We’re on day 13 now. He went back to the vet two days ago to have his staples removed. And now he starts his physical therapy. I’ll keep you posted how that goes.***