Our sweet Smokey had to have a mass removed off his back right leg today. Like many dogs, he has fatty tumors but this was obviously different. The vet thought it was a connective tissue tumor and had to come out.  It’s hard with pets because you can’t explain to them like you would to a human about what’s going to happen. I did anyhow. I called Smokey over last night, explained everything thing I knew and instead of asking questions, he just licked my face and went to find a toy.

Kathryn had her tonsils and adenoids out when she was in preschool. We got a book featuring Franklin the Turtle that told how he went to the hospital to get his shell fixed. We read this in preparation of her surgery.  I was telling Mike last night about informing Smokey of today’s event and lamenting there was no book to read to him. Mike said that book was helpful for Kathryn, but not for us. In the story, Franklin did not wake up from surgery the demon that Kathryn was that day. Demon might seem harsh but it is so accurate.

When they took Kathryn back for surgery, they let her pick one parent to go with her until she fell asleep. She chose Mike. He came out after she fell asleep  and we anticipated 30 to 40 minutes before she was done but he hardly got settled before they came looking for us. We might want to come back with them, the nurse said. Kathryn was pretty mad coming out of the anesthesia. Mad was right. She was a demon as Mike said.

Her face swollen was from surgery and she was hardly recognizable. She was crying in anger but in a half awake, half asleep mode. She was so mad. I rocked her as I held her in the kid’s recovery room with first the Teletubbies and then Boohhad blaring. The volume was deafening with no kid watching it.  Typical kid’s area. Like it wasn’t bad enough to have a demon child – we had to listen to those shows too. We were not allowed to leave until she had a popsicle and she was not interested at all. Not at all. After about an hour, she settled down enough to have the popsicle so we could get out of there.

They sent us home with pain medication with codeine or the like in it. She refused to take it. Frankly, the Tylenol she would take just took the edge off enough for her to be ok for a bit and then have a meltdown. After yet another frustrating effort to give her the medicine and explain how she would feel so much better, I did the next best thing. I took the spoonful. One of us needed to be medicated.

She’s never been good taking medicine – always gagging on the pills or hating the flavor of the liquids. One time, we thought we were so smart putting the medicine in her milk. Then, after a few days she said “Can I have milk but with nothing in it?” So much for fooling her. Smokey,  on the other hand, easily took his medicine this afternoon. He’s not as picky about the taste or texture.

We originally were told Smokey would have to spend the night but found out after surgery he could come back home this afternoon. Kathryn and I went to get him and we could hear his hoarse bark in the back. The clerk said he was fine, just looking for attention. The Vet Tech came out to review the paperwork. He has a pretty good sized  incision and so he must wear the cone of shame. As we tried to leave, it got stuck on one of the bricks on the pillars and then he did a face plant (saved by his cone) when he took a misstep trying to jump over a cement block.  Kathryn started laughing and then soon, like immediately, I was laughing and then the two of us were doubled-over laughing while Smokey was sitting next to the car. We finally had to take the cone off to get him in the car. If we are in arms reach, it can be off. He’s currently snoozing at my feet cone-less. He didn’t sleep all day at the vet’s so he should be tired.

I think his scar, if visible once his fur grows back in, will greatly improve his image in the neighborhood. No longer will he be the likeable dope but will be transformed into a badass with the scary scar. I’ll make up a story for him. The image re-do will have to occur come after he’s done with wearing that cone. That cone doesn’t improve anyone’s image. Certainly didn’t help mine or Kathryn’s at the vet.