The Dog Days of My Summer

Some of you know that my black lab, Quincy the Wonder Dog, had surgery on his knee earlier this summer. He had a torn something-or-other muscle which they replaced with some super-strength artificial stuff. Highly technical. Here’s a picture of him, taken last night. Isn’t he handsome? And aren’t I talented, figuring out how to follow directions for uploading pictures? [ahem] Helps if you actually read said directions.

But like any surgery, there is a recovery period. A time during which the dog may be a bit lethargic or out of sorts and perhaps lose his appetite. So they told us. QtWD’s recovery period lasted as long as it took for the anesthesia to wear off. He was up and jumping around the very next morning, overjoyed to be sporting a row of stitches as long as my forearm. The vet said he’d never seen anything quite like it.

There have been follow-up visits. QtWD dragged me along to the first one. He let me drive, but other than that, he was pretty much in control. I decided any subsequent visits were a job for DD19 and her father, who is The Dog’s Favorite Person. Not that I minded being dragged across the parking lot to that over-used patch of grass. Or being pulled out of my chair every time another critter entered the waiting room. Or returning home covered in dog hair and slobber. Nope, didn’t mind a bit. Not at all. I just figured QtWD would be happier if TDFP were in charge.

We’ve learned stretching exercises to regain range of motion. Only to discover that QtWD happens to think his range of motion is just fine, thank you. So we’ve learned to be Firm and Insistent.

Then we learned strengthening exercises which were, of course, Entirely Reasonable. Too bad QtWD didn’t agree. One involved laying a ladder down flat on the ground and having QtWD walk the length of it, so he’d be forced to pick up his leg and place it down between rungs. Uh huh. Or to quote DD, after listening to the vet explain it, “He’s kidding, right?”

But she was determined to try. The first attempt, QtWD charged through some adjacent bushes instead. The second attempt, he just sat there and very patiently refused to budge. Short of pulling the poor dear’s head off, there isn’t much a 120-pound girl can do to make an 85-pound black lab move if he doesn’t want to move. Once I stopped laughing, I decided any attempt on my part would be equally futile.

Other remedies were similarly discarded. The only remaining alternative was swimming. QtWD loves to swim. Unfortunately, so do other small animals. Since enrolling him in water aerobics class at the local YMCA was perhaps unrealistic, the trick was to find a lake where ducks and small children were not present. QtWD once chased a family of ducks and got so excited he accidentally stepped on one of the babies. It died. To my knowledge, he has never stepped on a small child, but most mothers emit panicked shrieks at the sight of a large black dog barreling toward their progeny with intent to slobber. We try to avoid them. Mothers, that is.

The closest lake that fits the description is 20 minutes north of here. But we can only go there during the week, as it’s a favorite weekend hangout for families with small children and baby ducks. And let’s not even talk about the geese.

So it has been a struggle. We’re getting used to those big brown eyes filled with tolerant confusion, gazing at us as if to say, “I hope you realize I will always love and protect you, no matter how long you continue this nonsense.” Unless someone offers him a Kleenex, then all bets are off.

Slowly but surely, Quincy the Wonder Dog is getting stronger. But so are we.

And I’m taking notes about how to successfully avoid PT after knee surgery — because my turn is coming.

77 comments August 2nd, 2007