Tripawed Chronicles

A few years back, I wrote the Bedrest Chronicles in my blog (that would have been during the summer of 2006, when I was pregnant with my littlest, if you're interested in looking it up). I wrote about my trials and tribulations and how I "survived" bedrest. The nice thing about bedrest was knowing that it had a definite endpoint, and I just had to bide my time until then. Some days I actually look back to those days of leisure where my only responsibility was to remain seated (those days aren't ever coming back!), but rest assured, I'm not about to go get pregnant again just for the guaranteed bedrest.

In any case, I brought Friday home yesterday, and figured I would chronicle his trials and tribulations as he recovers from his amputation.

The guy is a trooper. His surgery was Tuesday, and two days later, he's already starting to get around. I won't say he's used to having three legs, but he's hopping along. I put a harness on him so I can support his front half, but when he's just walking, he doesn't need me. It's only on the steps that he has trouble (and that I worry).

I went out and bought a ramp yesterday. I had bought one after one of his tumor-removal surgeries (he's had 3), since the vet told me he shouldn't put weight on it. Well, he wouldn't use it. Jumped right into the minivan. Jumped right out. Never used it. We tried setting it up so he wouldn't have to use the couple of stairs going into a side door, but he just went around it. This time, I figured he wouldn't have a choice. A tech came with me to the car as I left the clinic, and I opened up the trunk, and was going to set up the ramp, and just jumped right in. He fell down (and as he must have landed on the large surgical area, it must have hurt him bigtime!). But we managed to get him turned around and lying down comfortably.

Then we got home. I set up the ramp, and he wouldn't use it. He backed up and lay down, refusing to approach the ramp. He's about 75 pounds, so I knew I couldn't just pick him up, but I tried to get him to come. No luck. We sat in the trunk for a while and I just petted him. Rakesh was asleep (pre-night shift), so I couldn't just call him to help. Besides, I needed to do this for Friday. No way was I going to let him down. So I stopped my little pity-party, folded up the ramp, and helped him down by supporting his trunk. We did it. I helped him go to the bathroom (all the pebbles in his dog run can't be easy to balance on right now). And he made it up the steps into the back of the house (I think I held him back, frankly). I sat on the living room petting Friday and reading through my giant stack of magazines, and then slept downstairs on the couch, since I didn't think I could help Friday up and down the stairs without Rakesh around.

This morning, he slipped as he went to drink water, and his head splashed in the water bowl (without his taking a drink). So he hasn't eaten anything other than the treat I gave him this morning. And right now, while I hang out in the living room working, he's over in the dining room. I know I shouldn't read too much into that, because he would do that before his amputation, but I worry that he's depressed.

He's adapting, and actually stays put (most of the time). He can stand up by himself, and has walked from the backdoor to the dining room, and another time, across the playroom, unassisted. For more than that, though, he will stand and wait for me to come hold the harness to help him walk.

I still remember him as a puppy, seeing him for the first time at the pound in St. Louis, on April 24, 1998. I sat in a chair, and he stood up and put his front paws on me, and they barely reached my knees. I wasn't sure about getting a dog, but Rakesh and I went outside to talk it over, and I thought about what our lives would be like if I left without that puppy, and my decision was made. On our way home, I sat in the backseat of the car, with him next to me in one of those blue recycling bins (which he quickly outgrew, of course), and we took him home. Before him, I had been afraid of dogs. I took him to PetSmart once a week for dog training, and learned to be comfortable around dogs, to understand their motivations and thus their actions. They got to be much less scary then. And he aced the exam, performing better than he ever had when I practiced with him. That spring, I would drive home from grad school to let him out of his crate during his potty training (imagine my fear at having to carry down three flights of stairs a non-potty-trained puppy, and my relief that he never once peed on me!). It would then be so hard to put him back in his crate (because he was too smart to fall for any trick more than once), that I started taking him to the lab with me on days when I didn't have class. I carried some food, a bowl, and a couple of toys in my backpack (first generation diaper-bag, I suppose), and he would just sleep under one of the empty desks. When anyone wanted to take a break, they would grab a tennis ball and play fetch for a little while. The weather throughout the spring in St. Louis was wonderful, and we would walk across the campus and each lunch outside, giving Friday a nice walk.

Well, that's enough for now. I'll share more memories of Friday next time, with another progress report.

The boys came downstairs this morning in their pajamas to see Friday. Siddharth was curious what happened to the amputated leg. Shivam wondered whether a new leg would grow back. And Suryan just kept saying 'Friday no have leg' (or something like that). Some days, the boys all want to match, and the one who doesn't have matching clothes will get upset. So I will draw all parallels that I can to appease the kid ("Siddharth has blue on his shirt, you have blue on your shirt." "Shivam has stripes, you have stripes"). Siddharth, to cheer up Suryan, said "Friday has three legs, and you're almost three." It meant enough.