As I type this, I’ve been on duty with him for about five
hours, in standby to keep him quiet and clean up after his occasional upchucks.
We think the painkiller is upsetting his tummy but in case something more
serious is going on, we’re not leaving him alone today, his first full day back
at home.
Being half Dane and going on ten years old, we had to carefully
consider whether to go ahead with the surgery in spite of his age and the
difficult recovery and the cost. But not for long did we mull; bottom line, we
just couldn’t see him continue with constant ear infections caused by his tumor
and we were not ready to make that other decision.
His gaze when he focuses on one of us is a blend of wonder
and worry and just a hint of “what the (insert doggy expletive) have you done
to me?” Of course, he doesn’t know the whys and wherefores or the love that
went into our decision-making process. But we do. His day will come but it’s
not today.
Today is about watching and waiting and caring. This is the
dog who made our daughters feel safe when parents were out, who delighted and
frustrated and loved us and made our home whole. I wish he felt better.
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