“You’ll need to drop her off before 8:30 am on the day of the procedure.”
Ouch. That sounded so clinical. The nurse continued.
“And the doctor will call you after the procedure is completed, just to let you know that everything went okay.”
Um, because it might not?
“She has to stay overnight, but you can pick her before 9 p.m. the next day. She’ll need to be on crate rest for two weeks. No strenuous activity, no leash walks…”
If you haven’t figured it out already, Scout is going to have surgery. As her five-month-old birthday draws near, we’ve decided that, as much as having a bunch of bouncing baby Scouts running around has a small grain of appeal, it also sounds horribly tiring and not the best idea for our current living situation. (Not to mention that Zoey would defect to China or something.) So, Scout is going to be fixed, and I was on the phone with the nurse, trying to stay calm about it.
I realize that it’s a very common procedure, but as the nurse was talking all I could picture was someone taking a scalpel to Scout’s round little puppy tummy (okay, enough graphics). I mean, Scout just now grew hair on her stomach! That stuff has taken forever to come in! And what I love is that the little hairs are kind of reddish blonde and lovely.
Snip. They’ll be the first thing to go when they shave her stomach. Sigh. It might be a year before the poor girl has hair on her stomach again.
B and I have been talking about this for a while since, you know, it’s kind of permanent and all. First off, there’s always the monetary side of things. British labs are considerably more pricey than American labs. We saved for a while for Scout, and she was my birthday and Christmas gift combined. And with B in college still, any influx in cash is tempting.
But we felt horrible even talking about this. It felt as if we were, for lack of a better term, whoring Scout out for mullah, and that didn’t seem right.
So then we turned to the bouncing baby Scouts argument. Did we want an apartment full of little Scoutimuses running around? Admittedly, no. We adore Scout and she has captured (almost) the entire family’s hearts, but we can’t picture ourselves surviving very long with three to six of her bounding around. My other Dansko would be a goner.
As you can see, the decision was made pretty easily. It’s the whole idea of someone operating on my little girl that has me freaked out now. It’s like I told B last night, “I just wish they could give her a pill and be done with it.” His response: “I bet a lot of women feel that way.” Such the comedian ;)
Remember this shot? From back when Scout was six weeks old and went to her first vet visit!