So far, smooth sailing.
Still makes me nervous.
Also, pup is sad today. So sad. So, so sad.
Momma won’t play with the tennis ball. Momma won’t let us walk around outside. Momma won’t let us have any fun at all. Because Momma sucks.
Also the drugs are still making him weird. I hate when I find him standing in the middle of the room just staring vacantly into space like he can’t figure out what he’s supposed to be doing and he can’t figure out how to lie down and he can’t figure out of he even wants to. It’s like having a dementia dog, which is a whole different heartbreak I’m really not having to face, so the mockery of it is just, mean.
This whole thing has been mean though, so I suppose what difference?
I think we made a couple of positive steps today though. He laid down on the incision for maybe an hour or two for a nap. He couldn’t lie down on it at all yesterday. He still mostly pops back up when he tries to lie on that side, but there was that one time today… Concurrently, he seems to have figured out how to lie on the leg-side today. Learning to circle the other way around was a really complicated process, apparently. So I gushed over him when he figured it out this afternoon. Aaaand he is, right this very minute, lying in his $200 orthopedic bed he has disdained up until now. So. Shit. Awesome. I think it’s mostly just because he has laid literally everywhere else in this room by now. But still.
I have watched so. much. BritBox the past few days. And eaten so. many. snacks. I think I’m going to try to head back out to the garage gym on Monday. Get my shit pulled back together, like, my personal, ME, health stuff. This whole past month basically I’ve just been nutritionally a mess and basically doing not much to counteract that in the gym. I realize it’s priority 392 on my list right now, but it’s still on there somewhere. It doesn’t help that I’m not sleeping well either. I am very spoiled by usually getting 7ish hrs a night. Plus… my squat rack is my therapist. That ninety minutes to two hours most days when I watch brainless cooking TV and pick up heavy shit? That’s my me-time. I just know I’ll feel horrible of R manages to hurt himself somehow while I’m me-timing. So I’m debating putting him in the garage with me or leaving him in the pup-proofed living room. Such debates.
I wish R wasn’t so sad being cooped up with me in here. The reason I took the leg was so he could play fetch again because fetch is his joy in life. I just want to give him that joy back. Soon.
To remove ads from your site and others, upgrade to a Tripawds Supporter blog!