I had assumed that today's procedure would similar to the last one. The vet would sedate her, I would hang out with her until they were ready to take her into to the operating room and would walk her to the back room. Then I would wait at the office until she was done. You know what they say about assuming.
I found out very quickly, it was to be a full day project and I was to leave her there.
Now here's the thing. If it had been Willow or Dru, no big deal. It wouldn't bother me at all to leave them for the day. Breeze, aka Momma's Girl, on the other hand, ugghhhh, not happy. With all her fear issues...
And, also, apparently mine. Someone has separation anxiety. And it isn't just the one with the fur coat and 4 legs.
I was a wee touch stressed. And that, perhaps, is a bit of an understatement. I felt, however, I concealed it rather well. I am proud to say I didn't throw my arms around her and begin bemoaning the change in plans.
The vet tech, who was sweet enough to try to calm Breeze down with a massage, took her leash to lead her to the operating room. That didn't go well at all. Breeze planted. So I walked with them to the back room. At the doorway she planted again. And then growled.
That's right, growled.
I almost looked to see if Willow was hovering nearby trying to steal Breeze's bully stick. That's the only time I hear her let loose that low throated warning.
I suggested that I lead Breeze into the back room. The vet tech was in complete agreement.
It was immediately after we cleared the doorway that I realized I was putting her into a crate. Now, I understand I shouldn't have been surprised. I honestly don't know why I was. How else are they going to keep a dog safe before and after surgery and away from the other animals? Duh.
I just hadn't thought the pre and post op arrangements through. Logically it makes sense. But when I closed that door on her and walked away, I was almost in tears. She gave me the most pitiful look I have ever seen and I just kept thinking about how many days she spent in tiny, stacked cages before she came to me. I am a bit embarrassed to say illogical won out over logical by a large margin this morning.
Trying to get back on logical's good side, I decided I wasn't going to sit at home and fret so I headed into the office. Might as well get paid while fretting and we are quite busy getting ready for the gem show. (WOOT!)
I bolted out of work around 3:30 when I found out Breeze was ready to go home. And after a long day at the vet, some of the results are in. The vet found not 1, but 3 masses that concerned him enough to remove them. They have been shipped off for testing with results expected sometime next week. Her dental went well with no extractions. Yay!
As for the toe. It's broken. Granted it is just a tiny hairline fracture, but it's still broken. Damn it. Apparently having an 80 pound boy greyhound use your toe as a landing pad is not a good thing and should be avoided at all costs. So she has it wrapped in the soft bandage club that the other two girls have so much experience with recently. The vet said it should heal much faster than the others, since it is not as severe.
We are now home and she is curled in her corner bed snoring away. The proud owner of a very clean mouth, stitches in her right leg, staples in her butt, and one bandaged foot. She looks a bit like a Frankenstein greyhound.
I swear I am going to figure out how to build a bubble wrap suit for them to wear.