Wednesday, October 08, 2014

Adventure of a Lumpectomy.

Remember that time, almost exactly a year ago where I was all “there’s a lump on the side of my dog but we couldn’t really do anything about it because it was too tiny for the vet to stab with a needle?”

You may be happy to learn that, after spending a year watching that lump grow to the size of a plum, said lump has been lumpectomied. Mac is less happy at that, because somewhere in that time slot, unbeknownst to me, we crossed the line where the vet could suck it out with a needle, and into the territory of putting Mac under and giving him a scar on his side that looks like he lost an epic bar fight.

Pre-Lumpectomy

Post Lump-ectomy with "oh my god I'm sorry I made you hurry" Jar of Peanut Butter from me.

It’s been a few years since Mac has needed any sort of stitchery, and somewhere in that time-frame he’s calmed down a bit, so he’s caught on that not messing with his stitches will win him sympathy cookies, snuggles, and a shirt to keep his shaved ribcage warm.  Since I’ve been working out of our home I’m able to spend the days with him instead of putting him in a kennel with a cone of shame on his neck.  Mac has a poor history with stitches in general, and this “constant vigilance!” set up with me is thus-far proving to be a much more viable solution than his previous bouts with that damn cone.

We also have a board of rules to reference.


The first time he went under the knife was the ole snip-snip.  You KNOW.  That went very well, only two stitches if I remember correctly, and the tiny cone he wore paired with his puppy kennel kept him all in one piece.  The second time he got stitches was when his butt-hole stopped working properly.  

Yes, you read that correctly.  [skip this paragraph if you don’t want to know more details] More specifically, Mac was unable to control his anal glands, which is a little sac of stink on the side of a pup’s butt-hole that helps your dog mark his territory when he poops.  On it’s own, undiluted by poop, the stuff that lives in those glands smells SO FOUL you would rather disfigure your nose than have to smell it. I promise.  Mac’s glands wouldn’t just release when he pooped; they would release 2-3 times a week at utter random, including once when he was sleeping on the pillow right next to the pillow I was using to sleep… at around 2am.   I woke up IMMEDIATELY, and with that same immediacy, I had to take that pillow outside to the dumpster, use an entire container of febreeze, and light every candle that had ever been made. 


Let me tell you a great way to know you unconditionally LOVE a dog: when his butt-hole stops working properly, if your immediate instinct is NOT to get rid of the dog, you love him absolutely.  Instead, Mac had butt-hole surgery, and that time the cone became a pity party of one for Mac.  He would walk into whatever room you were in, wait until he locked eyes with you, and then put the rim of the cone onto the ground, effectively sealing himself off from the world and then heave a great sigh as if to say “nothing’s worth it anymore.
It was so pitiful that I got mad at him for making me feel so sorry for him.  That’s a conflicted emotion.

But Mac is lump-less finally, and healing up well.  We’re on a strict regimen from the vet that entails no walks or playtime with other puppies (or the cat; Bubba is less than pleased), because there were rib-cage muscles involved in this removal, so there’s a lot of soreness to properly mend before he can have a proper workout.  He’s bored out of his ever-loving mind, and I’ve spent the last few days alternating between following him around like a shadow so he doesn’t try to take his own stitches out in revolt, to snuggling with him when he turns too quickly, pulls something, then yelps and looks at me with those “I don’t know what I did!” sad face.  Poor dude, I am not good at seeing him be uncomfortable, bored and miserable.  The Mister is trying to put on a manly front, but

he is clearly in the same boat as I am, which I know because I woke up a few days ago to see that my husband had decided to move to the couch during the night so the dog could be more comfortable on the bed instead of sleeping on the floor.  Yes, this did, in fact, win The Mister some serious endearing husband points.

How do you show your pets you love them?  
Has your pet ever had to go under the knife?
How did you keep them properly healing/ keep them occupied?
Tell me in the comments!

1 comment:

Optimistic Existentialist said...

Thank goodness he is now lump-less and healing!!