Yes, yes. I know it's been all about dogs for weeks. Welcome to my reality. Four long weeks have gone by with Peanut Butter in lockdown. He has been exceptionally good about it, and for that I am thankful. Besides the initial vet and specialist costs, there have been laser treatments and an amazing amount of gear that has been necessary to keep him safe and non-bouncing. I expect him to require private school at any moment.
There is the ramp. When I pulled it out of the box, Slimbo shot out of the living room like a cannonball. Peanut Butter has had the same reaction - like it's radioactive. Lovey just looked worried, which has become her permanent state of mind. There is the booster seat. It is strapped onto the front passenger seat of the car and it allows PB to ride to his countless laser treatments firmly and safely clipped in place. It also allows me to tuck a large fleece blanket around him and it's high enough that he can see out of the window. I tried putting it in the back seat, thinking it would be safer - I am mimicking child seats, as I have no experience in momhood - but there ensued much howling and yipping as 'mom' was further than six inches away. Then there is the sling. Since I have to carry him everywhere and he is a chunky monkey, this has saved me some wear and tear. However, the sling is made for a maximum of 15lbs. and he's 19lbs. We manage with a little staggering on my part.
Monday morning was his evaluation with the new vet and I was there, rose-colored glasses firmly in place, babbling on about how great he was doing, how hard it was to 'keep him down', blah, blah, blah. We have been there so often, that PB has his own fan club. The vet smiled, nodded and then took him for a walk. Without me. At first I was bothered by this, but, in the instance of PB, it is better to get his 'mom' out of view. He is very protective of me and will carry on if strangers get near or between us. Unless they have treats. When she came back, the verdict was that he still has a way to go. I removed the rose-colored glasses and pulled out my checkbook. Six more weeks of treatments (mercifully, only one a week), Cosequin daily ($special$...of course), and a very tightly managed schedule of physical therapy to bring him back up to normal function. I hope he/we can maintain his/our patience with this extension. He longs to be Peanut "Full Speed Ahead" Butter again. We all long for that.
Meanwhile, there are the other kids to consider. Lovey should be renamed Velcro, as she is curled in a tight bundle next to me at every opportunity (when Slimbo is not in possession of the spot), her little brow creased with worry lines. Lovey misses her playmate and I am a sorry substitute. She keeps trying to get Slimbo interested, but he's having none of it.
Me? I'm running on Plan Bs.