It’s Not All Mary Poppins

Three, two, one… PUPPY EXPLOSION!!!

Remember how pathetic Daisy looked after her Big Procedure? How limp and floppy, how droopy and sad? Well, it’s been a week now.

A week of wearing The Cone.

A week of short, on-leash walks.

A week of a SERIOUSLY UNDER-EXERCISED PUPPY.

She is no longer limp, floppy, droopy or sad. She has not been that way since, oh, 50 hours after surgery.

It’s only been a week since she had a hysterectomy. And if she were HUMAN, she might just be considering creeping carefully from room to room in the house. But she’s not human! She’s a PUPPY! And so, as far as she’s concerned, she is FINE, just FINE — and has been, since about 50 hours after surgery.

She has NO IDEA why we make her wear that damned cone, of course, but even worse… why won’t we let her run? and play? and frolic with the other dogs? Why, why, why?

I am not totally cruel. Each day’s walk gets a little longer, of course. But she is getting maybe a third of her customary level of RUNNING and BOUNDING and BOUNCING and LEAPING and PLAY-PLAY-PLAY-PLAYING!!!!

She is, to put it mildly, a little antsy.

She’s begun having these moments of total frenzy in the house. Not aggression, just frenzy.

MUST BOUND!!!

And she bounds, in great sproings, from one end of the house to the other. This takes her about four and a half sproings. The half, because she hits the wall, either in the kitchen (north end) or the front hall (south).

MUST LEAP!!!

And she springs onto and off the couch, madly. Books, magazines, socks, iPods go flying. If someone is sitting on the couch, no problem, she will just SPRING ON YOU!!! And a cone-armed puppy comes flying into your face and then off again, in a flurry of fur, tail, and claws.

If you’ve ever interacted with a puppy with a cone, you’ll know why “armed” is the word of choice. She has only the vaguest of notions of the edges of that thing, so when she leaps at you (head-first, of course), you get the edge of the cone, a thin, semi-rigid plastic edge, driven into your face, your arm, your leg. Ouch.

MUST PLAY!!!

And poor, quiet, gentle Indie finds herself the victim of a flurry of cone-armed chewing. Her neck, her legs, her entire body bears the assault of a mad tail-wagging, desperate for OUTLET puppy. Indie usually rolls onto her side while Daisy pounces all over her head, and moans. Mournfully. “Won’t someone please rescue me from this idiot? Pleeeeeeease?”

MUST RUN!!!!

And she races, races, races from one end of the house to the next, catching walls, doorframes, books, furniture, people with that cone. Things fall down. Things get knocked over. Things rattle on the walls. People duck and run. (And she only weighs 8 kg. One can only imagine the destruction caused by a large exercise-starved puppy. Eesh.)

The stitches come out Saturday. I’ll be there Bright and Early.

Three more days…

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September 7, 2011 - Posted by | the dog | , , , , , ,

3 Comments »

  1. I feel for you! We went through this with Lucy this summer….turns out whippets are NOT happy if they don’t get to run!! Too bad you can’t do what we did, and leave for vacation, leaving the poor housesitter/puppy babysitter to deal with it!

    Comment by Tammy | September 7, 2011 | Reply

  2. My Tilly, not let out of the house on her lead, ran up and down the corridor and a lot of fluid built up around the wound. She had to have another operation to drain it. It was very difficult to stop her running. Hope Daisy gets away with it.

    Comment by Z | September 7, 2011 | Reply

  3. Ah, yes. Gracie had her surgery last year. The kind gals at the vet all love her so they cautioned me to try to keep her still. “Well, as still as you can keep Gracie,” they had to amend.
    Poor thing is recovering from an allergic reaction to SOMETHING right now–her tummy is red and inflamed so she must stop licking. We have meds but put the Cone of Shame back on her, briefly. She did not know how to function. You could tell sound is amplified and she most certainly does not know the boundaries–she couldn’t go out back herself because she was deathly afraid of the two steps down from the deck.
    Until now. Hubby got her a life preserver. It snaps around her like a raincoat but doesn’t bother the affected area. It is stiff enough that she can’t reach around and lick herself. As always, when I roll my eyes and poo-pooh an idea of his, it has worked beautifully. Genius.

    Comment by LoryKC | September 11, 2011 | Reply


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