Are you kidding me?!!!
Newly home from the vet with broken leg all bandaged up, Jovi was tucked safely in his bed and resting comfortably on the floor beside me as I did my computer work. Deep in thought, I swear I lost focus for only a moment…
One tiny little snarl followed by a sharp yip snapped me abruptly back to the present. My little puppy was on his feet, holding his unbandaged front paw in the air and looking up at me in total panic. And there was that damned cat again, his “Whaaaat? Me?” expression a picture of total innocence.
I quickly scooped Jovi into my arms, gabbed my cell and left a message on the local vet’s emergency line. It was early Sunday morning and the clinic was closed for the day, but thankfully the on-call vet was back to me within minutes. After a quick explanation, we arranged to meet at the clinic right away.
I put the cell phone down and took stock of the situation. I was in my pajamas, wearing my glasses instead of my contact lenses, and my hair was a mess. But I was too afraid to put the dog down, who by this time was quivering in pain and shock. Oh well…
So off I went in pajamas and sandals, cradling dog against chest as I drove to the clinic with one hand on the wheel, no seatbelt fastened and praying for no police. (Out here they tend to be in SUVs, which gives them a clear view into my much lower vehicle as they drive by.)
Fortunately, it was only a five minute drive and I arrived without incident. The vet, who was already waiting in the parking lot, gave me a rather strange look as I got out of the car. I mumbled something about being too afraid to put the dog down to get changed, and we went inside.
Sure enough, an x-ray revealed exactly what I expected – another break… and another call to the orthopedic vet. He wasn’t overly surprised, he told me, as often both legs will break in a fall. He suspected a hairline fracture was missed because we were all focusing on the obviously broken leg, and then extra pressure on the fractured leg caused it to snap.
The very next day, Jovi went in for his second surgery. The wonderful staff there worked hard to convince me I wasn’t a horrible mother, and that this could have happened to anyone. I wasn’t 100% convinced, but they did help me feel a little better.
Several thousand dollars more and my little puppy was home, recovering nicely with two bandaged legs.
And the cat, by the way, clearly doesn’t give a damn whether he’s grounded or not.
