Monday.
Riley: One of his stitches comes untied. Not one of the stitches along the actual incision line, but one of the stitches that are placed a couple of inches outside the incision line (the bottom right one, close to his frequently moving elbow), where the vet put the stitch to act as an anchor for the woven-in lacing system she put there for extra reinforcement (photo in here somewhere if that descrition doesn't make sense). I very nimbly re-tie it. Twice.
Shelob (the spider that has taken up residence in my bathroom): I take down a huge web, and I see her dart behind the cabinet that holds the lighting above the counter.
Yesterday.
Riley: The stitch comes undone again, as does another one directly above it. I call the vet's office and the vet that did this last surgery is out until Thursday. I take photos, email them to the office, and the other vet there (whom I like, but seems a quite a bit less anal) calls me back and asks me to trying tying them myself again. She suggests my sewing over them to hold them, or a dab of superglue (?!). I try retying them, but cant get Riley to sit still. I decide to wait until after dinner when I also give his second round of meds, thinking he'll be calmer after a pain pill.
Shelob: I take down a new web. Bitch.
Last night.
Riley: The two untied stitches fall out entirely. There is now nothing to fix. The drains that are in place begin to leak a little more.
Shelob: Comes out and threatens me.
This morning.
MrDarcy (the tuxedo cat): brings in a dead bird. Not just any ol' bird, but one of the Northern Mockingbirds that frequent my yard (they come for the fruit, especially the cherries).
(filched photos, not taken by me...I aint that good)I love them so. I watch them all the time, and they sing to me. I bury it with flowers and cry.
Gaara (the other cat): Comes strolling in for the third time this week with no collar.
Teeny (the chihuahua): Brand new thing, probably due to my cutting back her food since the doc says she's overweight and it's not good for her poor little back legs and kneecaps. I find her standing, full on, all four legs firmly planted, in the cat box, digging around looking for...kitty-roca. Eww.
Riley: Leaking more, and the discharge looks a little more gunky. I call the vet to move my Friday follow-up to Thursday, the first opening available with the last vet upon her return. His nose is warm. I'm freaking out.
Shelob: Is lurking. And looks like she is plotting.
I live in a zoo.
And I'm kinda losing my mind a bit.
3 comments:
I generally lurk and have been sorrowing along with you about Riley. I've struggled with lipomas that have gone south with my bassets. Just keep doing what you are doing. :(
As for Teeny, we have ALWAYS had to keep the catbox inacessible to our dogs. All of them want to dig for the kitty roca. It has never been connected with how much food they did/did not get at the meal. *sigh*
Strong thoughts from us and healing drool from the basset.
Phyllis
The first time my husband, not a pet person, got nuzzled by a dog with dried cat litter chunks around her mouth? I thought he'd never stop screaming. (Which meant I couldn't stop laughing, even though I was grossed out also.)
I don't have words for the horrible soul-crushing things I want to do to that pit bull's owner.
Poor Riley, and poor you. You both seem to be hanging tough, even though you're having some temporary setbacks.
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