Bingo is still what is classed as "under partial veterinary supervision". The site of the operation IS healing, but very, very slowly. The stitches had pulled themselves open - not ripped, they assured us - and were now useless; in fact they had started to become infected (antibiotics again: yay!), so they had to be taken out. The wound itself is "pink and healthy and showing signs of granulation", which, the vet said (over and over. At the words "opened" and "infected" and the phrase "so now the hole is a size of a 10p piece rather than a 5p piece" we both went rather grey) is good, really good. It's all just taking a long time.
And Bingo is getting incredibly fed up, obviously.
His energy levels - without his walks - are now so high that you can practically see them. The poor thing is desperate for exercise, simply desperate. And bored, so very bored. And his paw may not be hurting him but it certainly must be terribly uncomfortable, all padded and wrapped up in thick bandages...
Oh, God.
I know that everything is going in the right direction. I know the money will be given back to us (thank God for insurance). I know he will get better. But I want it to happen NOW. I want it to be finished and done with NOW.
I'm being childish, I know. That's how I feel, right now. Like a child; looking out at a very scary and unfair world and powerless to do anything to improve it. And, again, I know that is over-dramatic, but again; right now that is how I feel.
Alice xxx
* my way of saying the "F" word without actually saying it. It came about a few days ago when I needed to rant and felt like swearing, but didn't want to scar the developing young mind of Squidgum. So hence, Bunny! was born.
Oh my goodness. . . earlier this week we took the girls running and Bones, while chasing and "shoving" Nikki into the creek, twisted her back leg. She immediately lifted the leg and started limping on her remaining three. It looked kind of twisted and really bad just hanging there. Philip carried her back to the truck and the whole way I'm running through different (all bad) scenarios - broken leg, torn ligament (again), etc. It was a treacherous five minute ride home, during which Philip kept asking me what I was going to do. That made it even worse.
ReplyDeleteAs we pull up to the house, my heart is breaking and racing and I’m thinking we’ll be taking her immediately to Jen’s work (she works for a vet). But first we had to unload the other girls – and Nikki was covered in creek water and mud (as was the inside of our truck now) – whole other headache at the moment.
Philip opens the back door and tries to lift Bones out of the back seat, but she’ll have no part of that. She jumps down, heads inside and hasn’t limped since. Talk about relieved?! We’re guessing that she twisted it and had a quick pain, but I messaged it and watched her closely . . . and nothing – completely fine.
That same night, Thursday was attacked by a raccoon in the backyard. Long story short – she’s fine. Not sure about the raccoon though. Thursday’s quite the badass.
So I feel for you . . . and I’ve aged a whole year just this week alone!
Wow. Has your heart gone back to normal yet?
ReplyDeleteThey like to make sure we're paying attention, don't they?
I aged by several years a few weeks back (before the incident with his foot) when Bingo decided to leap into a river. A very deep, very fast flowing river. We were on the edge of a steep, vertical bank (I suppose 'cliff' is too dramatic a term, but it felt like that) and I wasn't worried because I thought that he had no way down, and also because we had walked along the same path many times before and he had shown no interest in trying to get down; preferring to paddle in a nearby pool. But that day, we were walking along happily and I was just trying to locate a woodpecker I could hear nearby when suddenly: SPLASH! And Bingo sailed past at what felt like the speed of light, swept away by the current.
Needless to say, I panicked. I couldn't get to him, so all I could do was stand on the edge and shriek at him in terror. Two minutes later, by which time I was in hysterical tears he was swept onto the shore, to my intense relief. A minute after that he had climbed back up and was stood - dripping wet, happy and wondering what the heck the fuss was about - at my side. A minute after that, he had to be grabbed and restrained with his lead to stop him from jumping back in again.
I know he was fine, and that nothing happened to him, but just thinking about it while telling the story makes me feel ill. I just... We love them, and they love us, so why are they trying to shock us to death??
I'm glad both of your daredevils are OK.
Alice xxx
PS: Bingo would not stand a chance against a raccoon. He is scared of grasshoppers. And ducks.