I have taken the last few days off from hitting golf balls, playing golf, or anything else. The weather has sucked, but we also had some doggie drama in our house the last few nights.
This is Stevie:
A couple of days ago, I put him and his sister outside while the pretty lady in the picture and I went to Target. Stevie has always had a little scab on his leg and it looks like scar tissue. Stevie has also been known to fall down the stairs. It happens all the time, and normally it isn’t a big deal. He’ll get up, shake it off, and walk in with some gravel in his fur. When we let him in, there was the gravel. No big deal. I close the bathroom door to go to the restroom. All of a sudden my wife begins to panic. I hear the fear in her voice, as she yells, “GET OVER HERE PLEASE!” I run out of the bathroom and she is looking at Stevie. His scab opened up, and it was deep. I could see some muscle and possibly bone. We decided to give him a bath to try and clean up some of the gravel that was in the wound. We get it cleaned and bandaged up and call an emergency clinic, who told us not to worry, to take him to the vet in the morning. We put Stevie to bed and head off to bed ourselves.
In the morning, my wife called a vet and got Stevie an appointment at 9:30. While I go to work, she takes him in, where they told us that he needs to be sedated and stitched up. I was in charge of picking him up at 5, once I got off work. Unfortunately, the normally 6-minute drive ended up being 48 minutes. I finally got to the clinic and they brought him out looking like this:
After getting his medicine, we began the 20-step walk to the car, which ended up taking 20 minutes. I loaded him up into the car, where he immediately assumed this position:
Poor puppy. Luckily, he is home and resting now. I hope these meds wear off soon, because it’s too quiet around here.
Maybe next time I can use my morning off on a round of golf instead of sleeping in after a night of doggy first aid.