Lucy's Adventures

As I said before, my baby girl came home yesterday morning. I cried. ...Well, that's not really true. Actually...I bawled. Some animals really worm their way into your heart and I thank God for that.

I had to go to work cause some paperwork just wouldn't wait...(damn paperwork)...but I made a very short day of it. Can you say, "Hey John, you left your car running."?

I called the vet and got her in at 10:30 cause she looked pretty rough. Skinny as a rail, bones showing through all over. She was losing it at both ends and she wouldn't put her left leg on the ground.

Sheila went with me to the vet...something wrong with my eyes and I couldn't see well...Right Mark?...and we checked in and waited for the vet to see her.

Our regular vet was doing a surgery and so we saw her partner. He said, "First thing, looks like she's been hit by a car. I need to try to get her to eat and doing a more thorough exam. I'm concerned about internal bleeding." And so he wanted to keep her overnight. Can you believe it? My baby hasn't even been home 5 hours yet and he wants to keep her. I sure didn't wanna leave her but leave her I did.

He called yesterday evening about 6 and said that yes, she had been hit by a car, there was no internal bleeding, her hip socket was fractured to the point that surgery was not possible and it looked like the pieces were fusing together already. The injury appeared to be two weeks old. He wanted to keep her that night and check out her...passings?...NowhatI mean, Vern? He said her GI trac, track, or tract, was bothered by whatever she had been eating. Which by all appearances wasn't much at all. Looked like mulch was about all she could catch.

I called this evening and both docs said that they thought she could go home. I was off and running. He apparently had given her some pain meds and she was really wagging when I came in. Whatever is wrong with my eyes seemed to flare up again at that moment. She sat in my lap all the way home.

So the prognosis? She'll limp, probably for the rest of her life, and develop arthritis within the year which will need to be managed with doggie aspirin. But she'll be fine. He said let her do what she wants as far as being active and keep her on a bland diet for a week and she'll improve every day.

In my living room is a small house, twenty inches deep and about eighteen inches high and wide. It's her little cubby-hole. She's their right now, on her blankets, chewing up a rawhide disc. Can life get any better?

I suggest not.