Now, on to Crazy M news. Of course it is dog related. Diesel took a ride to the vet yesterday morning to get neutered. We had to drop him off early so it was dark when we left the house. The husband said he would go with me. Glad he did. Diesel wouldn't get in the truck. Husband had to pick his hind end up and push him in. I sat in the backseat with him. He was a scaredy cat! This is a horrible cell picture but maybe you can get the idea.
That's his head on my shoulder. It was like I was holding a 90 lb baby, oh wait, I was! He got better as we got closer.
He really liked driving thru town and watching the cars pass. Never seen so many cars or at least not in over a year. He traveled very well. Got him to the vet and he refused to get out of the truck. Husband had to get behind him and push. Then he wouldn't go in the door. Again, more pushing. Finally, got him checked in.
I went to pick him up by myself. Husband was at work. I figured if I needed help, I could get someone at the vet to assist me. They brought him out in his HUGE E-collar. But he was carrying his head low and would get the bottom of the cone stuck on the floor. Then he'd stop dead in his tracks with his head stuck to the floor. It was funny but I felt bad. Got him out the door and he decided that was far enough. He sat down on the sidewalk and pouted. People were walking past making comments about him being upset with me and poor thing, etc. I managed to get him down the sidewalk and past the parked cars to the truck. Now the hard part, getting him IN the truck. First I took that collar off. Then I discussed with him the benefits of getting in. He didn't care. I put his front paws in the floorboard and hiked his hiney up as high as I could. He was able to scramble in.
The drive home was uneventful. He sat in the backseat gazing out the window.
The clinic sent me home with instructions and pain medicine. He is not to jump, run, get wet, eat much or drink much. First thing he does when we get home is JUMP out of the truck and RUN around the yard. I tell him he's not following the rules but apparently the rules don't apply to him. He finally laid around that evening late. I gave him his medicine and went to bed. 2 AM I wake up to him howling. I think he was mourning the loss of his boys. Or maybe it was the coyotes. Probably a little of both.
This morning I woke to him whining on the porch. Not whining in pain, whining with a ball in his mouth cause he wants to play. I tell him he's not suppose to play. He still doesn't care. Throughout the day, he's been running, jumping, and whining to play. It's like he didn't have surgery. I'm keepin' an eye on his sutures to make sure he doesn't tear one out with all his activity. We so don't need any complications!