Rocky came home from the hospital yesterday. He was understandably very groggy and disoriented. Although that changed soon enough when he spied one of our cats. He gave a halfhearted chase and then laid down panting. A good sign nonetheless because he hasn’t lost his spunk.
The vet had to shave him for the surgery so his rump and the top part of his tail are bare. Think German Shepherd front and baboon butt. I’m thinking about putting a pair of boxers on him with the tail going out the fly so the other dogs in the neighborhood won’t laugh at him.
Needless to say, he is very clingy. I am typing this with one hand because the other one is petting him. He obviously didn’t listen to the vet telling him not to jump on the couch or bed. He came home armed with all kinds of meds. This is the tough part because he has no appetite so we can’t mix it in his food or hide it in a treat. I have to open his massive jaws and literally shove the pill down his throat with my thumb. Then, keep my fingers crossed hoping he won’t spit it out. Hey pharmaceutical companies! How about a beef flavored antibiotic or a lamb flavored analgesic?
The prognosis is good. Although we haven’t gotten the pathology report back, it’s pretty certain that he had cancer. Chemo and radiation will be the next step on his road to recovery. I highly recommend pet insurance for those who have an animal. We never bought it for Rocky so we’ll be eating Ramen noodles for the next month or so. One good thing was that the consultation, CAT scan, and surgery came way under the estimate the vet gave us. But I happily pay the bill--twelve months, no interest--because I will have him around for a few more years. Pet ownership, just like marriage is for better or worse. As a responsible pet owner, it’s my obligation to take care of this guy and give him the best life I can. The reward is the look of love and joy he gives me when I come home. And that, as the MasterCard commercial says is PRICELESS!