As I’m certain you’ve all been waiting out there, hands wringing in nervous anticipation for news of our strangely misfortunate dog, I shall take mercy on you and keep you in suspense no longer: Doc Holliday, puppy extraordinaire, is making some encouraging progress.
After our vet visit a couple weeks ago we were told to do two things: keep him as immobile as possible and give him anti-inflammatory meds twice a day for two weeks. We did really well in our kindergarten classes and, as such, are excellent at following instructions so we went home and commenced Operation Stir-Crazy Labrador.
A few things we’ve learned in the past two weeks: Doc goes absolutely bananas when he’s not allowed to run around. The only walks he’s getting are from the house to the backyard (on a leash) and from the family room to the kitchen and back. He’s going nuts.
He’s hyper, he’s getting destructive in his kennel outside (and now for his latest trick, Doc Holliday would like to demonstrate how a canine without opposable thumbs is capable of moving 20lb. pieces of concrete around like tennis balls when he gets bored enough!) and he’s getting really skinny because we’ve been feeding him less in an effort to keep weight off his leg.
In positive news, he’s barely limping now and he no longer stresses his good leg enough to where his knee cap slides off. The rest and meds appear to have gone a long way toward helping him build scar tissue around his damaged ACL, which hopefully means that we can continue to forgo surgery for yet forever longer.
I have to be honest, though, now that he’s starting to get better I’m getting more and more nervous. Every time he runs down the stairs I worry that he’s going to fall funny and then *snap!* all his recovery will go out the window. Oh well, as my mother used to say, you can fill one hand with your worries and another hand with sand and see which one fills up first.
As for Doc, he’s not worried. He’s never worried. He does think that I should try to score him some more of those anti-inflammatory meds though, because as far as he was concerned they were a pretty radical treat.
He also wants you to know that sticking feathers on your face does not make you a chicken.