Activity restricted to a leash: 10 days of hell

In the epitome of irony, I was writing an article about post-op care that includes the Dostoyevsky-spun line “Inadequate restriction of activity is the most common cause of post-operative complications and increased veterinary visits and costs” when I had to restrict my dog’s activity after a wee bit of his paw pad was removed last week.

Three sutures on a foot equal 10 days of hell.

He’d been licking the bottom of his right front paw for too long, licked it right into a staph infection that took two courses of antibiotics to clear up. A week later he was licking it again.

“Let’s take a look,” said my vet.

And for some odd reason, in no corner of my brain did that translate to “biopsy” or “sutures” or “we’re going to take a chunk and maybe look at it under a microscope.” The only thing my brain received was “we’re going look at it.” We can register last Thursday as one of my low IQ days. We’re all allowed to have a few.

Given that he is certain that every visit to the clinic is another opportunity for them to remove his spleen without anesthesia while he waits in the lobby, he cannot go near the clinic without falling apart. He shivers as we pull into the parking lot. He assumes they will remove his spleen without anesthesia. Had I realized there was a possibility of his being restricted to a leash for 10 days, I would have been appropriately prepared. I would have been neurotic and gnashing my teeth with worry, not about what’s wrong with his foot, but about how the heck we would get through 10 days without running 27 miles a day in the back yard plus going to the dog park for a “real” run.

So imagine my low- IQ surprise when he walked out with a bandaged paw and instructions not to let him outside without a leash for 10 days. She found some slightly thickened, inflamed flesh that was probably an ingrown hair follicle, and removed it, resulting in the Three Sutures from Hell. I would have been right to be neurotic.

At first he wouldn’t pee or poop on a leash. That was fun. There I was at 11 at night and then 6 in the morning, 12 hours since he’d last peed, and no leg lifting was in sight. Isn’t this one of the reasons you get boy dogs? You’re supposed to have business done and over with in no time, get urine samples the moment you lift the thingie (technical term). I thought their peeing was an involuntary behavior, like breathing: if you’re outside, you pee.
He finally peed in the back yard while on a leash.

Then there was that bag on the foot thing. Of course it rained like crazy for the next few days. The bandage only had to stay on a couple of days, but they said to keep bagging it to keep the sutures dry. He was terrified of the plastic bag, and we had one rather unpleasant discussion about it, but he finally got used to it. His bandage got wet because the first time we went out I looked behind me and the plastic bag was 40 feet away.

I know the sound of a hollow laugh, and I’m pretty sure it’s coming from me.

So here’s what I learned.

1) Use a ziplock bag over a foot. Don’t put it on until just before you go outside.
2) Keep it on with a rubber band; remove the rubber band immediately after you come back in to prevent damage.
3) Some pet “experts” don’t know squat because it’s all intellectual knowledge rather than hands-on experience.
4) Some boys just won’t pee when you want them to.
5) It’s not right to sedate him just because he’s bouncing off the ceiling, but Valium really, really works for me.

View the original article here