Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘cone head’

A year later, Sasha was surprisingly still with us. Her tumour had grown to twice its size, slowing her movements down somewhat.

We decided to get a second, professional opinion. From the moment we stepped through the front door, we had a really good vibe we didn’t feel with the first vet. This vet told us that we could do a simple blood test first, ensuring that her heart could withstand the surgery (something that the first vet NEVER told us – but that was another rant). With that in mind, we booked our baby girl for surgery, waiting impatiently by the phone for every little updates.

One thing I have to say is that our fur kid was a real trooper. Groggy as she was from the anaesthetic, she made it through the surgery, her spirit was only slightly dampened by the fact that we had to put a cone around her head to prevent her from licking, or worse, shred open the stitches with her teeth. For a while, we nicknamed her ‘Little Miss Cone Head’.

'Mummy, get this thing off me!'

But once the stitches had been taken out, and the memory of the surgery was well behind her, the girl thought she was an equivalent to a ‘Supergirl’, the only thing missing was her red cape. She still strived to launch off the edge of the couch (to both my and my husband’s mortification), still do laps around the house as soon as we let her in. And even though her hearing has gone, it didn’t deter me from turning into a Mad Mother, screaming at her to stop running and save her energy.

I realised I’ve digressed considerably from my main point. With our overseas trip looming, we had been racking our brains as to what arrangement we would put in place for someone to look after Sasha for three-and-a-half weeks. We had a friend who lived just around the corner from us who was willing to come over each day and feed her. But still, we worry about her for several reasons. For one, we are leaving her during what would arguably be one of the hottest period in summer. Two, we have put PVC blinds to cover our whole patio, and the hot air would be trapped inside the patio, where my baby is. Three, well… the baby, in dog years, is actually 107 years old! More and more, she fills her present days strolling around the patio, trying to get our attention by sniffing so loudly near the door, and sleeping inside her dog house. And the last thing we want, if we could avoid it, is coming home to a dead dog 😦

So we had to think of an alternative. Last weekend, we brought her to my husband’s brother’s house and tested how she behaved with his brother’s dog. The last time Sasha and my husband’s brother’s dog laid eyes on each other, many moons ago (I’m talking about… 10 or so years), they growled and showed their fangs; the other dog nipped Sasha, so unexpectedly it scared the shit out of Sasha. All this, coming from a dog whom had been Sasha’s partner-in-crime for three years whilst Sasha was living at my husband’s brother’s house.

With Sasha’s hearing completely gone, and her strength almost non-existent, she couldn’t be bothered to retaliate. As the other dog growled and nipped her, Sasha strolled past without a care in the world; a factor, I think, that contributed greatly to the fact that the other dog gave up after about 30 minutes. And you know how, for Mothers out there, when you feel immense pride when your child does something ordinary? When s/he gets teased/provoked and they stand their ground without getting themselves into trouble? Well, I felt like that when Sasha casually strode past the other dog; a feeling of overwhelming pride of my cutest, most wonderful (not-so) little girl, who has learnt all the life’s lessons and realise that fighting back isn’t always the best course of action.

All's well in the world 🙂

Advertisements

Read Full Post »