It feels like Doug has been on lockdown for eternity. I’m sure it feels even longer for him. I was looking for a photo yesterday and realized that he had his first surgery back in April. It’s almost September. The earth has not shaken from Doug zoomies in almost five months.
Set me free woman.
This go around is going pretty good. I think there is just a general depression and acceptance by both of us that it will suck until it doesn’t. The meds combo seems to be helping Doug stay calm. When I say he stays calm, what I mean is, when in his jail cell he has not yet tried to run zoomies or stand on his two frankenlegs only. He will stare directly into my soul and bark for a long time, but he does it while sitting so that’s good. But when I go to let him out, trust me, home boy tries to run. In the yard he will let me get a few steps ahead of him (he’s on leash) and then he will run for five steps just because he can.
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
The death stares are fewer and have turned into more of a plea to his captor to stop taking him in for surgeries.
A softer side of the death stare. Using only side-eye.
Brothers, why is she addicted to surgery?
No seriously, stop taking me places where I go to sleep and wake up with another frankenleg.
We joined an AMAZING support group on Facebook for dogs with frankenlegs like Doug and it’s been really helpful for perspective and encouragement. There are a bunch of people and dogs just preparing for or coming home from surgery and there are a bunch who are at the end and have videos of their dogs running free for the first time. A reminder that the end of this will come.
It has been two weeks since Doug’s most recent surgery. It has been 14 weeks since his first surgery. Here are some updates:
We resume rehab next week. We are coming up on the original date that rehab should have been done, but now it’s almost like we are starting over. Well, it’s not almost like we are, it’s more like we actually are. Thankfully, Doug LOVES rehab. We call it Peanut Butter City.
Doug’s sutures came out today. That means NO MORE CONE! The funny part is that this go around, Doug actually loves the cone. He has mastered sleeping on his back and having his head propped up on the donut cone.
Something is going on with his old new leg (the one he had surgery on first, from here on out we will call that leg Franken-leg-one) When he walks, his hock/ankle hyperextends (to an alarming degree). The surgeon looked at it today and said it was either nothing (just the way he is compensating for Franken-leg-two) or something (I cannot tell you what he said about this part because I passed out from fear it requires surgery).
Doug’s current meds are keeping him pretty chill. I’m not a person who believes in jinxing but I am still cautious to say that too much. This go around, I have kept him strictly in the crate (not the pen) so I also think that has had something to do with him remaining calmer. He is going to graduate back to the pen this week so we shall see.
Due to the previous bullet point, my vodka consumption has been that of a normal person.
Doug has also been super snuggly this go around. Just before he tore his other ACL, and he had been jailed for 12 weeks, he was starting to be stressed. I get it, he had no idea why he was being held hostage. During that time, he had started barking at me non-stop (which was so fun and rewarding), and growling at the situation (which I mean, what is better after a long day at work than someone snarling at you?). I am trying to do everything I can to make jail time more positive.
In relation to the previous bullet point, I fit in Doug’s crate with him.
Doug almost got a sister a few weeks back. I felt like it would have been a great time since he would have only had a few more weeks of inactivity and by the time he was cleared to play, we’d be through the shutdown period of them being separated. Then his other ACL snapped…
Here are some recent pictures of my little inmate:
And here is a photo of how Franken-leg-one hyperextends:
I have never been in prison but I imagine its pretty lame. There is probably a lot of boredom mixed in with a bunch of chores, and a lot of anxiety about being shiv’d or raped. Those last two are tidbits I learned from watching too much Law & Order SVU.
Doug’s prison time is just the boredom part. He’s bored. I’m bored for him. And we have three to four more months to go. Even though WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN F’ING DONE BY NOW BUT NO, HE HAD TO BLOW OUT HIS OTHER LEG TOO.
But I digress.
The update is, boredom. His leg is healing nicely (from what I can tell). The gag factor from looking at it has gone from a 10 to about a 4. We had to put rehab on hold so that sucks. He’s still on pain meds so he is pretty chill. He was chill during this part last time too. It’s when he comes off of the meds that he is intolerable hyper and hard to implement restricted activity. That should be at some point next week when his staples come out.
Until then, it’s just a lot of staring at each other and him thinking I’m addicted to dog surgeries.
The day of surgery when he’s like ‘what the? She made me have another surgery? Thanks a lot Mommy Dearest.
Our cone game is strong. Since Doug eats them.
Gag. Gag. Gag.
A PSA from Doug: if you are going to do drugs, wear a donut.
That day I was at work and watching him on camera and thought the cone strangled Doug because he had not moved in four hours so I yelled BOO into the camera’s mic.
And in this NSFW photo you can see how nicely the other leg (the one closer to the floor) healed up and we are confident this one will too. He should only be franken legs for a few more weeks!
Doug is 12 weeks post a complicated luxated patella and TPLO surgery. Two weeks ago we waved goodbye to our surgeon. As of last week, we probably had about six weeks more to go until he was free to zoom. We had just come off of pen confinement and needing to be leashed in the house. Our rehab had finally picked up in intensity to really start building his muscle back up. He was sleeping upstairs again.
In other words, we saw the light.
This weekend, Doug tore his other ACL. I’d personally like to live in denial of this. But Doug can barely walk now and his second surgery is today, so it’s apparently time to take a bite of this reality sandwich.
I sorta wish we had not seen the light or given him more freedom. To have it given, then abruptly taken away, has left him angry. He now sits in the pen and barks at me non stop. Not ideal, for either of us.
I don’t really have the words to describe how hard it has been to keep Doug’s activity restricted. I know a lot of people probably say that about their dogs, but the people around us can confirm that Doug is not, most dogs. He is constantly in motion. When he’s being held back, he goes into destructive mode. And as much as that drives me nuts, it is way more taxing on him to have to live the life as an inmate. These leg issues keep Doug from being Doug. He should be going in and out of the house into the yard whenever he wants. He should be running zoomies. Instead, he’s been in jail and on tie down and the moment he starts to taste freedom again, the jail bars drop back down.
He holds me responsible for it all, and it definitely impacts our relationship building.
I am not sure how we will get through round two, but I know we will find a way. I mean, we have no choice. Hopefully since this one should only be the TPLO surgery and not the luxated patella fix also (please God), it may be a bit easier on him. Not sure about that but I am holding onto that hope.
If either Melvin or Jake needed this surgery, or even if they both needed it at the same time, we’d all probably be high-fiving. Staying still and resting was their goal in life. They probably would have cut their own ACLs if they knew it came with months of inactivity. This down time for Doug, goes against his DNA.
I have had Doug for almost 11 months. It is estimated he ran stray for about 5 months. I’m hopeful he thinks jail-city is still better than being stray, but I can’t be sure. I’m trying to focus on the positive: we can afford these surgeries, he has good insurance, he’s young so healing is faster. But the truth is, my little family needs a win.
Last night when I was laying in bed saying no, no, nope, no to this happening, over and over like a crazy person, I had a vision of Doug running stray. What if he had not been found? What if both of his ACLs blew out and he was dragging his bloody stumps around? What if, God forbid, someone found him and decided he was not worth saving?
He came to me for a reason. One of those reasons is to be mended. We all know he will get that. Another reason could be to test the boundaries of my sanity. This surgery may breach that barrier, but who knows, it might help us get through round two!
Is he going to test my patience? Yes, absolutely. Will he pick back up on planning my death? Probably.
Will we make it through? Of course we will. We are joy warriors.
I had a migraine last week. It was terrible. Doug, was even worse than the migraine.
To recap:
Max would lovingly lay over my legs when I had a migraine and was sick.
Melvin would climb into the big bed, and want for nothing until I was able to get back up.
Jake would lay at Melvin’s butt forever, he had no clue I was even there (although a few times he would come into the bathroom, I’m presuming to be sure the person who could reach the food was still alive).
Doug’s pre-game, game-game and end-game is torturing me.
He was a maniac the day of the migraine. On a scale of 1-10 energy wise, he was infinity. He also reverted back to trying to be my backpack, something he has not done in months (and I had not missed). He also, tried to chew my hair.
But the worst part was, and I was extra stomach sick on this migraine, every time I was crouched over the toilet, he would bark, at the toilet, ferociously. Like foam from his mouth would fly into my ear because he was so close to the toilet and in some weird toilet-attack-mode.
So, I shut the door. But he could still hear me getting sick, so he would just flip out until I opened the door again. When I would get up and walk out, he’d run in and bark at the toilet some more.
During migraines, I often write things down, either things that happen during the migraine that I want to tell my neurologist about, or things I need to remember, as I likely won’t have recollection of them after.
I woke up the next day to find this note:
Obviously I won’t. But don’t tell him that.
For those of you anticipating the ‘other leg’ update. We see the surgeon tomorrow at 10am. Until then, I’m in denial.
Doug had surgery nine weeks ago. Nine LONG weeks ago. We had a setback at week 4 and he has been on limited-limited activity since then. To be honest, I’m not even sure what that means. But today, 9 weeks in, we had our 8 week check-up (calendar math is not the boss of us) with the surgeon including a 2nd round of x-rays. The good news is: Doug’s bones are fully healed! Wooohoooooo! Does this mean he can resume zoomies? Uh, no. He still needs rehab to build up the muscle mass that he lost (and in some ways never had). But it does mean that we can go into full-rehab-beast-mode!
Doug starting water therapy (finally)!
You guys know the struggles I have had to keep Doug calm. He’s been on the tranquilizer Ace for some time now and either I’m going more insane or it is having an opposite effect on him. I have been reading up on it and in fact, I think that is what is happening to Doug. It is actually making him more hyper. All of the stories I hear of animals on Ace where it is working are along the lines of: the dog was immobile, drooling, very lethargic. The words I would use to describe Doug on Ace are: uncontrollable, crazy, hyper. Now that we are coming off of restricted-restricted activity and will likely just be on singular restricted activity, I can probable stop giving him the Ace. Or I can stop since IT FAILED US.
Examples of Doug on Ace – as you can see, he is as subdued as a pumpkin.
I am sad to report that Doug, like many who find themselves in the prison system at one time or another, has found himself incarcerated once again. He is just not a dog that does well on a tie down, mostly because necks break and he does not seem to care about that risk. I however love his fat neck so, the jail cell is back out in the center of the room where it can haunt my decorating soul full-time again.
Doug loves being outside. I had this glorious vision of summer, I’d leave the doors open and Doug would travel from inside to outside, napping, playing, being a dog.
Since surgery, Doug has needed to be in his jail cell or on a leash, 24/7. I mean we have setbacks from not even doing anything (but not from doing nothing). But for all of you that fear that the yard dog doesn’t get his fill, oh contraire. He does, it just happens to be on a lame tie down.
Rehabilitation:
We just hit 2-months post surgery. We were supposed to have a three-month recovery time. That has now stretched into infinity six months. Doug has been on limited activity (from his already limited activity) and we are now coming off of that (hopefully). We have our two month X-ray on Tuesday. Fingers crossed that he is back on track and we can resume hard(er) core rehab.
We are rocking the boot on his good leg!
We were recently granted permission for him to do steps once a day so now he sleeps super soundly back upstairs (still in jail though)! Ahhhhh, the little victories are so sweet!
Vacation:
Most of you probably saw the video I posted on our Facebook page about my little inmate being excited to see his favorite warden return from vacation. I decided that upon return from vacation, I would grant him release from jail (with gradutaiton to tie down). At his parole hearing I asked that he keep all four legs and tail attached to his body and keep paws on the ground. This was him during minute one. He’s not allowed to jump, so yeah, it’s going great. Also, apparently death stares continue beyond the jail cell, so that’s fun.
Bob:
She’s still kicking it in the hood. Doug clearly does not have the 360 degree eyesight that Jake did.
Bro, I know what it’s like to be an inmate. She kept me locked in the mudroom for twenty years when I first came (she will say it was two weeks but it felt way longer). She called it two-week-shutdown, I called it bullcrap, am I right?! Melvin claims he was kept separate from Max for a few weeks too but I don’t know, she let Melvin roam the WHOLE house when I lived there. The WHOLE damn house!
Anyway, I saw you had surgery and your leg is wonky. Uh, welcome to my world! You are more like me than everyone thought! And uh bro, we saw you the other day when you were pooping and you fell into your poop cause your leg gave out. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH! Max and Melvin even laughed. That was too funny! Also, been there, done that.
Remember in my last letter when I told you there would come a time that she would have to carry you. I watched her lift you out of the car the other day. She’s always so careful and gentle. She kissed the top of your head to keep you calm. She did that to me too. I closed my eyes and I could still feel her wrap her arms around me. I could still hear her say ‘I’ve got you bud’. You’re so lucky to have her taking care of you. Heres a little secret bro, she cried the first few nights you couldn’t sleep upstairs. She’s so sensitive.
So, um, dork, maybe, stop with the death stares. I mean she spends hours a day trying to keep you entertained with puzzles and frozen smoothie Kongs and shin bones from real cows! I never got no real cow shin bones (I mean I had tic-tac teeth but so what!) I mean, don’t scowl at the hand that feeds you dude. We get that you’d rather be out running zoomies but we think you are really lucky to be there with her. Trust us on this, just breathe these moments with her in.
Life here is pretty glorious. I pretty much just smell and stare at Melvin all day. You will have to take my word for it, he smells so delicious. I really like Max too. He’s so chill. He’s like Yoda, do you know who that is? People say I look like Yoda but Max actually is Yoda.
Melvin’s doing great. He spends his entire day watching her. Their connection is something that everyone here is in awe of. Its like she can reach up here and touch him and at the same time he’s there beside her. He won’t even write one of these letters, something about it being too sacred. I don’t know, I’m not a rules guy so I do as I want. So anywho, I stare at Melvin, Melvin stares at her and Max is Yoda. Also, there is endless peanut butter. But don’t be thinking it’s so great here that you need to come, the current plan is that you won’t be here for 14 more years. Don’t worry brother, we’ll be waiting for you.
Pretty sure after my last letter we decided you wouldn’t destroy any more beds. I may not be there to physically jump you (but if I was I would jump on you so hard) but let me try going about this another way…we have some pull up here as your guardian angels. Now I’m not technically allowed to threaten you, apparently heaven is all about positive reinforcement, but um Doug, I’m Jake. I act first and worry about the positive reinforcement rules never. STOP DESTROYING BEDS. 1. I left a sleep legacy there. You are tainting it. 2. When you stress her out you stress WWE Jake out and don’t make me go all HULK ON YOU! I’m being told to calm down. UGH.
Lastly. WTF is going on that you let a cat join our family. I mean seriously, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUDGE? We don’t take in cats, we eat them. There is no grey area here, Doug. Cats = food. This is embarrassing. Birds landed in our yard, I ate them. Bunnies hopped on by, get in my belly bunny cause Jake gonna eat you. Frogs hippy hopping, my tongue was their final lily pad. But you? A cat walks by and the next thing we know is she has a rabies certificate for it and you’re calling the damn thing sister. Epic fail, brother, epic fail.
Ok, I gotta run. We got a peanut butter eating competition against Corbin, Rufus, Dixie and Chilly. Team Holupka all the way bro!
Doug is a lot like Melvin (the early days Melvin) ethusiastically. But his hind legs are 100% Jake.
We have the ongoing saga of his newly rebuilt leg. That one takes us down the inmate path where Doug is jailed and I take his tranquilizers.
We also have the other leg. It now has a stage one luxating patella. It also, likely from several months of compensating for the other leg, hyperextends in the hock area. The best way for me to describe this to you in a way we all understand is that his ankle area on the good leg, pops forward when he uses it. Ankles probably should not do that.
Enter in the new brace. When I tell people about the new brace they just assume its for the newly rebuilt leg and even when I try to explain it’s for the not new leg, they still say ‘yeah, it’s for his surgery leg’ and I say no, it’s for his non-surgery leg and then we all just agree to disagree but still agree that both legs are problematic. Then I get the vodka back out.
Here is Doug, and his new leg brace. He’s tried to eat it 4,672 times (we just got it on Friday) (bottom two videos). I break into a full sweat getting it on him. But look how nicely it accentuates his juicy thigh!
It’s the end of the school year, kids are gearing up for no more school, summer break and graduations.
Not my kid though, Doug is being held back. He’s going into Super Kindergarten/summer school.
Doug’s healing is slow going. In fact, we have had a bit of a setback. His knee has a lot of swelling and it’s pushing his kneecap back out. To be clear, back out is the wrong direction. Also, on a separate issue, one of his TPLO pins is cutting into his bone a little.
Awesome, right!?
At our appointment last Friday they called me into a room. Nothing good comes out of being called into a room. The surgeon said that we should cut back on activity for four weeks. Cut back on activity? What activity? Please explain yourself. What he was saying, as my soul was screaming NOOOOOOOO, is that Doug should not progress right now. We should not increase or change anything for four weeks. That adds four weeks to our total recovery time.
That would take us to 20-24 weeks. Otherwise calculated as five to six months.
We are at six weeks now. My guess is, that come two months, Doug will be strategizing how to make wind chimes out of my bones.
He is a prisoner in a world that won’t let him run. Or jump. Or do stairs. Or run. Or run some more.
He’s most definitely planning my death.
We followed up our surgeon appointment with a therapy session. We were hoping to start water therapy but with the activity setback, therapy will need to be low-key for the next four weeks. They put some numbing gel on his knee and did some laser work. I wish there was numbing gel for my hopes and dreams for Doug’s summer.
He’s still super adorable though! And trust me, there is a death stare under the doggles.
Be sure to join us over on Instagram to see the photo journal of Doug’s time in jail. We can be found @Dougholupka.for.president
As you will recall, Bob is the feral cat that I started feeding last fall, when she was just a kitten. Then Bob got knocked up, and her gender became more obvious, but I kept her name anyway. She’s Bob. Bob was trapped, she nursed her kittens and they were adopted out.
Bob got spayed, vaccinated, ear tipped, microchipped and got a three-month tick preventative this past week and has come here to recover.
Bob is an angry, rebellious teenager. And everything is apparently my fault.
Listen Bob, I get it. You’re a slutty little vixen (that sounded judgy but I fully accept who you are) and after a few nights of unprotected boy-toy time you started gaining some weight. Then one day, kittens dropped out of your area. I imagine that was uncomfortable. I don’t know how you felt about being a mom but you seemed to step-up and kept the kittens well-fed. Then the rains came, you moved the babies to higher ground and then giants stole your babies, trapped you and forced you into a cage with the kittens to be their food source. It all seems pretty hurtful.
Then one of the giants took you to a place where they poked and prodded you and then took out your lady parts. Then a different, yet familiar, giant picked you up and put you in a high-rise cage that she built with her own hands. Even though that familiar giant paid your vet bill, and is allergic to you, and reaches into the cage several times a day to feed you, give you fresh water and clean your litter box, you take time out of your very busy lying around time TO HISS AT HER LIKE VICIOUS LION.
Yes, folks, that’s right, inmate-Bob hates me too. I go outside and use soothing tones and feed her really, really good food and she basically gives the cat equivalent of a F U. Every time. It rained yesterday, so I went and bought a huge tarp to keep Bob dry and I spent a long time trying to aerodynamically figure out how to utilize the tarp and not SUFFOCATE BOB at the same time and still that little hussy (sorry, still no judgement) hissed at me the entire time. Every time I reach in to fill up her food bowl I wonder if that will be the moment I learn what cat attack feels like.
I don’t blame her. She does not have a clue as to why her life has been disrupted and when, if ever, she will back to walking the mean streets. The answer to that is, SOON, very soon. Once free. my guess is that she will return to the front of the house where I was feeding her before her teen pregnancy and that is fine. I will feed her wherever.
I am also moderately concerned that she and Doug are planning some sort of prison coup. They can probably communicate telepathically.
I need a sturdier lock on my bedroom door.
The only thing that I know with absolute certainty is that cleaning a litter box is a new level in hell for me. It’s not even that there is poop or pee, I mean the scoop makes it really easy. It’s the smell of the fresh litter. It’s so overwhelming. It’s like someone sprays a powdery, deodorizing, air freshener directly into my face every time. The smell haunts me, all day.
Here is Bob being introduced to her condo. This is right before poop started flying out of her butt. It made me miss Jake.
She looks super sweet. Until you look at, lean towards, reach into or try to help out in any way.
It makes me laugh how much Jake would HATE the mere idea of Bob, let alone seeing her in his yard. I’m not even sure I would have taken her in if Jake was here, his prey drive was so severe. Bob’s existence would have haunted him day and night. He is probably flipping out about her as I type this.
As per usual, it’s been a bit crazy here. Work’s been super busy, I had a hospital visit (I’m fine) and Doug has been doing his rehab and being generally cray (in a joyous way). Also, Bob (the cat) gets spayed next week and will come back here to heal up.
As for Doug, we are now one-month post surgery. It feels like much longer. MUCH. Keeping Doug calm is like trying to stop rain.
On our last physical therapy appointment (guys – we are so in love with all the folks there!) they confirmed a looming suspicion about Doug’s ‘good’ leg. That’s right, I put quotes around ‘good’. His ‘good’ leg is now showing signs of having a luxating patella (only a stage one at this point however I’d prefer a stage zero) and it’s also showing some signs of weakness from being his dominant hind leg for so long. His hock tends to hyperextend. (Again, I may or may not have that right. When someone mentions another problem, my brain goes into shutdown mode and information about any sort of situation is not permitted). For now, we measured him for a custom brace that is on order. Who wants to put money on whether Doug will eat the brace?
His new leg is doing good. So there is that!
He’s still on limited activity. No running. No jumping. No steps. We go on three, 11-minute walks a day. Yep, we added one minutes since last week, look at us go!
Here is Doug, loving so hard on his rehab harem.
We were not able to start water therapy because Doug has a yeast infection. Of course he does!
Neither Melvin or Jake were insurable. When I got them, pet insurance was different. If a dog had a pre-existing condition, the dog was denied. Now, the pre-existing condition isn’t covered but the dog still can be. Let’s be honest, Melvin and Jake were walking pre-existing conditions.
During Jake’s last year of life. With the eye ulcers, the emergency eye surgery, the follow-up eye issues, the MSRP infection, the diaper rash, the cancer, the radiation and all of his medications, ointments and specialists (6) over that 12-month span, I paid out $25,000. This is not a complaint, it’s just a fact.
When I got Doug, I had already investigated pet insurance plans and had decided on Healthy Paws. I pay $30 a month. The annual deductible is $500. Our plan reimburses 90% of accidental issues and illness. Routine care and pre-existing conditions are not covered.
I just got our $5,000 check reimbursement for Doug’s surgery. I cried. Whenever possible, I take a positive approach to life, even when things are dark and heavy, I try to see the light. It’s been a couple of dark years with Melvin and Jake both having cancer and dying. That reimbursement check meant way more to me than money.
I deserved that break.
I have a great job. I have a great family support system. I happily paid Melvin and Jake’s bills and I will happily pay Doug’s. But it felt really good to get something back from a health conundrum.
That said, we pay joy forward. So in honor of yesterday being ten months since Jakey died, we’d like to buy an Eddie’s Wheels Wheelchair for a dog in need. Please share submissions of dogs who could use a cart (their name and story) in the comments below, on this Facebook post or email to ohmelvinyojake@gmail.com. I’ll put together a little committee of folks who will help me pick the lucky dog.
Doug could not hate life more right now if he tried. Death stares now include not even bothering to look at me.
We saw the surgeon for our first post surgical follow-up and he said Doug looked great. They took the stitches out and told us we could wave good-bye to the cone. Yay! Then he asked me why I wasn’t using tranquilizers on Doug.
Doug was on tranquilizers at the time.
Welcome to my world.
He sat down and I knew it wasn’t going to be a moment I would cherish later. He said that the TPLO part of the surgery was easy and smooth, however the kneecap repair was far more extensive than they planned. Due to that, Doug was likely be looking at 16-20 weeks of recovery time.
My soul died, just a little. Mostly for Doug but some for me too. In this situation, 16 weeks is 100% in the dog years type of counting. It might as well be forever. Especially with a dog whose body laughs at tranquilizers.
Yesterday, we had our rehab consult. The doctor there also asked me why he was not on tranquilizers. Just stop, people.
Doug was assessed. He was stretched. They pulsated his muscles with some magic wand. He did some cone work and they taught me how to do our ten or so, at home, therapies. We were also granted three, 5-10 minute walks a day! Wooohoooooooooo! The inmate can finally leave the house.
I then posed the 16-20 week question to the rehab doctor. She said ‘at least’. Then she threw in, I’m a little concerned about his good leg too.
I immediately went to vodka.com to up my order. The good news is, therapy zonked Doug out. We will do therapy 1-2 times a week there and will also start water therapy and that should drain some of his energy too.
It’s about time you let me leave prison. You are the worst warden-mother.
Checking his range of motion.
Pulsating his muscles. I honestly might have gotten that wrong.
Forcing him to use his new leg (this is also the point where questions were raised about his good leg).
Laser therapy. Doug is probably the only dog who prefers to stand for laser therapy.
I had a home visit a few months ago with a rescue group I wanted to be approved for. I had many conversations with the adoption coordinator about Doug and how crazy very exuberant he is. I explained to her how he never really calms down, even when he is still, he’s gearing up for movement. I told her these things during the conversation about how when I add the next dog, I don’t want two Dougs. She assured me she had seen it all, she’d been doing Pit Bull rescue for 20+ years. She came and met us. Her exact quote after the visit was: I never in my life have met a dog as energetic as Doug. He is awesome, but he is by far the most hyper dog I’ve ever met.
Told you so!
Despite only being 12 days out of surgery and having at least 10 weeks of rest to go, he thinks he is fully healed and he now tries to do a modified zoomie in his crate, along the edge of the bed. It’s like tightrope zoomies, IN A DAMN CRATE. When he is in the x-pen, he wild ponies up on his hind legs. To say this is against every thing the doctor said he SHOULD NOT DO, is a grand understatement. I mean HOW do you keep a dog down, literally down, on all fours. Should I put bricks on his back?
After he runs the zoomies in the 4×4 space (and after I plead with him to stop (no, NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT!) he resorts to ramming the crate or pen door. Like a bull. Like a bull with a broken leg who is supposed to be resting. Every time I go in to spend time with him, it’s like an ultimate warrior cage match.
He has been doing all of this, since day 4 post surgery. I mean even superman could be held down by Kryptonite.
I am not a dramatic person. If I say Doug is crazy, he’s crazy. I’m very matter-of-fact. Trying to keep Doug calm has made me drink cry. It’s brought actual tears to my eyes. I legit hid from him at one point because I just couldn’t fight the fight anymore and I needed a break. My hiding, only rev’d him up more. Hide and seek, fun!
I feel like the vet surgical community failed us when they sent us on our way post surgery with a see you in two weeks, keep him calm and off that leg. Pretty sure they threw in a wink and smile for hurtful measure. I had tried to explain that Doug was VERY energetic. That there was no way to keep him calm. And I’m sure they hear that A LOT from owners who don’t really know what true, nuclear energy looks like. I watched as our surgeon’s eyes glossed over when I explained to him that while I was VERY committed to Doug’s recovery, Doug would in no way, shape or form be at all committed to it.
He said to me…Doug will realize his limitations. And then he tried to send me home without tranquilizers. Uh no, nice try.
Sadly, the tranquilizer we were given was no match for Doug. I get it, Excedrin Migraine is as about as powerful as a tic-tac when it comes to my migraines. Some medication just doesn’t stand up to the challenge before it. Doug’s current tranquilizer is one of those things.
I am willing to do the hard work. I kept Jake in a cone for six weeks after his eye surgery. Six weeks in a heavy cone for a dog with a compromised spine could almost be considered abuse (which is why I ordered that ridiculously expensive head mask – remember that???), but saving his eye was important for his well-being. In the end, it was the right decision. Well, it was the right decision before knowing he had terminal cancer. Had I known about the cancer I would have had the eye removed and let him live as struggle-free as possible. Ahhhhh, hindsight, you’re a bastard.
Speaking of hindsight…Jake had it.
Keeping Doug calm is up there with juggling sand. Impossible.
I’m OK with Doug continuing to hate me as I try to get him through this timeframe intact and with 4 healthy legs at the end. This phase in our lives will be all but a blip. We are going to try a new tranquilizer. And if that doesn’t work, we will try something else. If nothing else, all our trying will pass the time. Right?
He is still planning my death. Thankfully, the cone and donut SHOULD come off tomorrow when his sutures come out.
We are starting day 5 post surgey for a grade 4 Luxated Pattella correction (that was difficult) and a surprise TPLO surgery to repair a torn ACL that we didn’t know about.
Doug is doing great. Despite only being able to tippy-toe on his new leg (which is right on track with healing – he had bones broken to do the fix), he is still ready to run. And jump. And run-jump. And run while jumping and jump while running.
He does not understand why he is in jail. Enter me, the enemy.
Here is what Doug knows:
I forgot to feed him breakfast on the same day I dropped him off to a strange place.
He ‘fell asleep’ and when he woke up he couldn’t feel his legs and there were only strangers around.
He cried throughout the night and I never came (I wanted to come, bud!)
The next day some stranger forced him onto his broken leg using a body sling.
Then his mother finally showed up (where the hell had she been?).
He got home and was put into a crate. Wait, when did the crate come back? We got rid of that months ago.
He went for his first bathroom break and his mother had no clue what she was doing and he had no clue what she was doing but there was a band around his belly and his rear legs were not touching the ground and WHY WAS HE ON LEASH IN HIS OWN YARD?
He now lives in jail. Why?
His mother does not want him to get excited or jump so she doesn’t come into his to his jail cell until he is very calm and sitting (when did the love leave?).
He can’t sleep upstairs.
His food bowl is not as full as it usually is.
WTF.
He looks at me with complete contempt.
This is one of those times, when it wold be nice if we were issued the ability to clearly communicate with our animals. Like if when you get them, you are granted 30 minutes of communication to use (wisely) throughout their lives. I’d spend 1 minutes on hello, save 4 minutes for emergencies (like major surgery) and I’d save the rest for our final goodbye.
But, we don’t get that so we are the enemy until we aren’t the enemy which for Doug and me is about 85 days from now.
He is still on pain medication and a tranquilizer but there will come a time when he is not on those things and I honestly do not know how I will keep him calm. Oh for cripes sake, I won’t keep him calm because Doug does not do calm, I am more concerned with just keeping all four paws on the ground because he loves jumping up on his hind legs and why, why, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Vodka.
I am happy that he seems to be comfortable. Then again, he was running full speed on a dislocated kneecap and a fully torn ACL so who knows. He could be in agony and no one would be the wiser.
We have a pretty good system. I am much better at getting him out with the sling. He is still on the ‘go out, go potty, back to jail’ schedule but when he gets his staples out (5/9) I’m hoping that we are granted some walk time. We don’t even start therapy until 5/16.
I have set up areas on the first floor for him to be where I am. I have an x-pen in the main room where the TV is and when in that he only wears the donut cone since I can monitor him, and so he can death stare at me while we hang out. I had thought he could be in the office with me but he tried to jump up to look out the window so now I work in the main room so the death staring does not have to travel far. I also have an x-pen set up for him outside, for outdoors death stares. And he sleeps in a crate at night with a giant cone on because if left in the x-pen unsupervised, he and the pen would probably make it upstairs (to kill me in my sleep). When in the crate and wearing the giant cone, he death stares directly into the camera.
I guess this post is my way of saying, so far, so good! It’s odd how the universe works. I do not want the one year anniversary of losing Jake to come because I cannot bring myself to admit he is really gone so I don’t need that day to become another sad reality on the stupid calendar. At the same time, that timeframe is when Doug’s 3-month lockdown will be over. So I really want that time to fly by but I don’t want it to but I do but I don’t.
Doug has surgery tomorrow to repair/replace/fix (all of those I guess) his kneecap issue. All I know is that the kneecap is unable to get back over and they have to carve out some notches in his bones to allow it to get back into place and they will also move around some tissue to accommodate that and hold the kneecap in place. I’m the 101 of medical speak. The surgery worries me less than the recovery. Well the anesthesia worries me the most, followed by recovery, then surgery.
Doug has to be chill/still for four-weeks. I’m not even sure it’s four, it might be six, the surgeon said a number and my mind went to the absolute longest time I thought I could possibly survive with a pent-up Doug. That is four weeks. Give or take 3 weeks.
He will spend at least the first night in the hospital. Despite having almost every medical issue known to (wo)man and dog, Melvin never spent a night in a hospital and Jake only spent one, when his eye tried to explode. I know that once he is home, the first few days and nights will be the worst, but in terms of caring for him, I have been training for this since I had Max.
We will figure it all out.
I have a dog pen, I have various sized crates. I have tie down plans so he can be outside but not moving around. I have cones, bed covers and plans to feed him mini meals throughout the day via Kong to keep him busy. I have bones, and bully sticks and new toys. I have a plan to try to keep his weight in check.
I also have tranquilizers. For him, but if they fail, I may take them.
This is what Doug looks like when he’s on tranquilizers. He is awake. Wide awake. But somewhat still, for like ten minutes.
I’m excited to get this issue fixed although I am a bit worried about one other thing. What if this leg issue has been holding the real Doug back. What if he is even more energetic, more zoomerific, more cray? Since he has been on pain medication, I have noticed that crazy Doug has reemerged. He is still only using 3 legs but the pain medication is definitely making him feel more, him. I’m scared people. I mean really, what if…
Yippppeeeeee, I can’t wait to fly through the air again like I was born to do!
I will keep you posted via Facebook and Instagram. If you have any advice for post surgical care or keeping exuberant dogs calm, PLEASE share that with me! Please!
Let me give a quick recap of the health issues I have faced with the dogs. An asterisk indicates multiple dogs and/or flare ups:
Giardia ******
Mange
Severe allergies **************
Moderate allergies *****
Maybe allergies ***
Infected anal glands ***
Skin infections **********************
MRSP
Diaper rash **********
Severe diaper rash **********
Split nail
Cracked tooth
Missing teeth
Colitis ****
Happy tail
Infected happy tail ****
Tail amputation
Hypothyroidism
Eye growth that needed removal
Eye ulcers ***
Hole in eye from eye ulcer
Emergency surgery to fix hole in eye
Blood clot that formed after eye fix (in eyeball)
Severe spinal malformations ********
Spinal fluid blockage ***
Unidentified tick disease ***
Ehrlichiosis
Wonky gait *****
Hind limb paralysis *********
Sores from dragging paralyzed legs *********
Bleeding of any kind ********************
Ear infections *******************
Liver disease
Nares surgery
ER visits to remove feathers from throat **
ER visits (non feather related) *********************
X-rays *********
CT scans **********
MRI and Spinal taps (3 and counting)
Bladder and bowels that needed manual emptying (my life is so damn glamorous)
Severe constipation
Extreme diarrhea
Prolonged diarrhea
De-worming
Dog attack injuries (Jake from attacking every dog I brought home and other dogs attacking Doug)
Aspiration to lung and almost lung lobectomy
Liver cysts
Liver tumors
Lung tumors
Hemangiosarcoma
Grief honk crying requiring behaviorist and prozac
Nerve sheath tumor
Spinal Cancer
Radiation
I’m sure I’m leaving out issues that have long ago left my memory. But you get the point.
The surgeon took one look at Doug’s X-rays and said, I know the issue. He then did an extensive inspection of Doug’s leg (Doug did not love this part and I could tell by the movements the doctor was doing that he had for sure narrowed in on the area of pain for Doug). We did a CT to confirm.
I would like to add my recap to the (male) doctor was as follows: every day, it seems more and more that Doug’s leg was put on wrong. I’m going to guess you didn’t play with Barbie as a child (I wish you could have seen his face at this point), but if you had, you would know that there is a right and wrong way to put Barbie’s leg back on when it falls off. Doug’s Barbie leg is on wrong.
He nodded (and somehow managed not to laugh since I was coming across as very serious) and told me that in his entire career as a veterinary surgeon, no one had ever used a Barbie analogy.
But then he said, (in a way) I was right.
Doug has a grade 4 luxated patella. While 90% of turned kneecaps go to the inside, Doug’s is of the rarer variety and goes to the outside. Grade 4 is the worst, it means that the kneecap can no longer move back into place without surgical intervention. It seems as Doug’s leg grew, his bones pushed his kneecap out of the way and continued to grow without it. So the doctors have to go in and shave his bones to make room for the stray kneecap. (I almost passed out when he said that). They are building a 3D of Doug’s leg to figure out the best way to repair it.
Doug’s onset of symptoms were right on track. For a few months he would hop at the end of long walks or bursts of intense zoomies. He was limping more over the past few months. Then last week, he went lame on that hind leg.
Doug was supposed to be the dog that showed me what this illusive ‘annual vet visit’ is all about. Doug had other plans and clearly wants to be more like his brothers. So we will rebuild that wonky leg (hence the extra asterisks above) and we will figure out how to keep him still now and after the surgery (I bought more vodka to help strategize on that one). The one thing that Doug has going for him (in addition to me), is extreme body strength. Doug currently runs on three legs, just as fast as he does on all four.
I saved Jake’s giant stroller and everyone kept asking why are you saving that? Their thinking was that I would likely never have the need for it again.
HAVE THEY NEVER MET MY DOGS????
Here is Doug. High and drunk from the anesthesia and sedatives and pain meds. We will keep you posted as the surgery gets scheduled.
Hey Doug, over here, it’s me, Jake. What do you mean, who? No you didn’t just ask that. I’m your little-big brother. The one who left their scent up all over in that house. Yeah, you got it, that’s me bro. I left those scents for the next dog, since I mean you’ve met her, we all knew there would be more dogs. She’s gotta put that love somewhere, ya know.
Anyway…I’m keeping an eye on you. In a are-you-worthy sorta way but also in a what-the-heck-is-he-thinking-gotta-guide-this-dude way too. I’m pretty much the only one that can keep an eye on you since you move so fast, it requires eyes that can go in two different directions.
Some observations, if I may (oh I may cause I’m the new damn boss of you)…
Why are you such a spaz? I mean Melvin and Max and I laugh sometimes cause you cray bro, but then other times we are like MOM, WATCH OUT, DOUG IS GONNA LAND ON YOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUU. And then, you land on her. She bruises easily, treat her gently. Trust me, there will come a time when she has to carry you and she will do it with so much love that you will melt into her. I miss those moments with her. So this is my way of saying, if I can’t be there, you need to be really good to her.
I saw that dog attack you Sunday. First off, let me say, that girl had some killer moves! I was really impressed with how she flew through the air towards you. I mean in a lot of ways, that dog is me! But then you didn’t like it as much Melvin used to love when I chewed his face and then the brothers up here reminded me that we are on your side (ugh, sides are so boring) so then I felt bad that you were bleeding, I’m supposed to tell you, don’t be like me. Don’t go changing and start to dislike other dogs (I’m reading from a script cause I don’t actually believe all this but…), you are more like Melvin and Max. You’re nice (hey who wrote this? I’m nice. Ok, ok, I’m not the nicest of the four of us. Fine). Just stay you. She will want other dogs and well…just let her have her way. Ok?
About your sleeping style, what the BLEEP are you thinking? Why are you sleeping above her head like that? I mean in the middle of the night you stretch and your feet land on her face. You are not a hat. You are a dog. Sleep normal. Melvin says you gotta move down and snuggle in. Trust us dude, we know what we are talking about. MOVE DOWN (and hold off on meatball production when you are in the bed, when possible).
Dog bed destruction. Stop. Just stop. She bought me 19 beds and there are like 2 left and we get it, you don’t do sentimental but she wants those beds to be passed down. Let her pass down the damn beds. She does not ask for much. I mean it, I will come back and haunt you… OK. OK. I’m being told to calm down. Sorry (not sorry) about my tone.
Last piece of advice (for now), chase all the squirrels, chipmunks, bunnies, frogs and birds that you can bro! Life is short, hunt!
I’m sorry we can’t be there with you. Trust us, there is no where on earth we would rather be than there, with her (and you). But we see potential in you bro. I for one love the noises you make and your snoring game is strong! I also really appreciate the ‘accidents’ you have had in the house, she has so many pee products, am I right bro?! We took bets on whose Kongs would fit best in your mouth, I thought it would be mine but Melvin won that bet. You are a lot like Melvin, I bet you smell delicious. Melvin guides you the most, but I like to chime in too. You are a lot like me in some ways, in the ways that probably drive her a little bonkers. I get you bro. I’ve been where you are, new, spunky, making sweet love to the rug running zoomies like a wild banshee. We don’t want you to change, we just want to make sure you get some guidance. She’s like the best thing that ever happened to us and well, we watch over her day and night and so we are here for you too. We’ll do our best to help you make good decisions. Don’t you love it when she says that to ‘make good decisions’. She is so funny.
I miss her so much.
Lastly… when her eyes leak and she says my name, MOVE OVER CHUMP cause I’m right next to her trying to make her feel me there and you usually sit right on top of me. Yeah that’s right, I’m that cramp in your leg! Watch it!
Love, Googly eyes always watchin you. I’m like Santa.
PS. This is a new thing we will do from time to time. Letters from Heaven. xoxo
