Riggins is Home - Night #1

Riggins came home yesterday afternoon after his TPLO surgery on Thursday.

We met with the surgeon who performed the surgery and were able to see "pre" and "post" surgery x-rays. It seemed a bit surreal to be seeing the first x-rays and then the second with a stainless steel plate and six screws into the bone. We could also see where the bone had been cut, rotated, and screwed back into the tibia.

The drive home was excrutiating, as Riggins laid in the back of the Jeep and cried and moaned. I swear he was not only in pain but also giving me the "what for" for dropping him off at the house of torture. He continued to cry and moan until I said, "I hear you. I know you're ticked. Now lay down and rest." With that, he stopped the crying and moaning and laid down. (Have I mentioned that he's human?)

The evening was much like I expected...Riggins whines constantly and wants the reassurance that we are here with him. We set up a puppy pen in the family room so that he could be with us but confined. He is none too happy about this because he detests being separated from us - even if only by a wire gate. The good news is that the vet said he does not have to be in all the time. If we are out with him and have good voice command, he can lay at our feet, etc.

We do need to assist Riggins when he walks on the hardwoods or stone floors or when going outside. The vet gave us a sling which we wrap around his back half and lug the 96 pound lug like an awkward stack of firewood. His movement is pretty fast, and he slightly weight-bears on the affected leg. The vet assured us that all of this is fine. He just doesn't want Riggins to take off running on us or to jump.

Anyway, Riggins was mainly thirsty last night and drank many, many bowls of water. He rejected food and (gasp!) even peanut butter until about 9 PM. I was grateful that he finally took some food since he had to take his painkillers and Benadryl at 9 PM. And, of course, Fred won him over with a little bit of cheese!

There was not much rest for the weary last night. We put the puppy pen in our bedroom so that his routine would be relatively similar to every other night. He froze when it came to walk into the bedroom on the wood floor, so Fred picked him up and carried him in. Riggins then cried and whined throughout the night. Fred opted to sleep in the spare BR (no need for 2 exhausted people in the house), so I had to find him at 1 AM when Riggins needed to go out. I wasn't sure how Riggins would do without both of us helping him, but - by 6 AM - I had it down pat.

I also spent about 30 minutes in the puppy pen with him at 3 AM. He woke up crying and moaning really badly. His pain meds weren't due for another hour, so I crawled in there with him and was able to keep him somewhat calm until he got his next dose.

This morning...Water (check); potty break (check); food (won't eat it...will try later); pill schedule written down (check); e-collar off (check); e-collar back on (check - tried to lick incision minute I went to get coffee); coffee (check, check, check).

The Day Before Surgery and Thinking Back

Well, it's officially less than 24 hours before we drop off our beloved Riggins for his TPLO surgery.

At 8 years old, this yellow lab has had one heckuva life.

Born on November 21, 2001, Riggins was the puppy that I did NOT want. Don't get me wrong. I always wanted a lab, but I had visions of a cuddly sweet little thing who would just loooove me. Instead, I quickly became acquainted with a 5 pound ball of fury who believed that I was a big chew toy.

The breeder had put little yarn collars on the puppies so that prospective owners could pick their pups. I fell in love with the green one and the orange one. My husband spotted "the blue one" who - as I first remember him - had his sister by her little red collar and was yanking her across the breeder's garage. I was mortified. I didn't want this terror. I wanted a puppy who would love me - not eat me!

So...The breeder - sensing a marital feud of epic proportions - proposed that we put the puppies back in the whelping box to see who would come out of it first. I put "the blue one" in the far back corner and - delighted that I'd beat my husband at this game- grimaced when "the blue one" knocked over his fellow littermates and hurdled himself out of the whelping box.

Naturally, I would not be defeated; so I asked the breeder for another test. She suggested that we see which puppy would jump over the PVC pipe around the small kennel in which the whelping box was located. I again placed "the blue one" as far away as possible. He, of course, enjoyed this game and sized up the PVC pipe and leapt over it while his littermates looked at it like it was the climb to Half Dome in Yosemite.

Yep...I was stuck. However, I had one final card up my sleeve. The breeder's husband was not in the garage to witness this catastrophe. When he came into the garage, I asked him which pup he'd choose. Without hesitation, he announced, "The blue one. He'll be your greatest challenge and biggest reward."

And - as I wait anxiously for tomorrow to begin and Riggins' surgery to occur - I agree. Riggins (aka, "The Blue One') has been my greatest challenge and biggest reward.