Hello, internet. I've been trying to think of how to say and deal with this, so I'll just come out with it.
I am moving to Boston. Stella is not. Instead, Stella will be living with two of our favorite people, Jay and Jen.
Boston is not much of a dog-friendly town. San Francisco, you can bring
your dog into the bar, the record store, the bookstore, hell, there's
dog bowls out everywhere you go. Boston basically has a big sign on it
that says NO DOGS ALLOWED. Stella has wicked arthritis from her
surgery. Boston is cold, in case you haven't been following along. I
talked with her vet, and he spoke plain crazy
truth: "you want to take a large, arthritic,
barky animal to a city like that?"
Right. She would be miserable. I would be
miserable. And yet...
So a few weeks ago, when the neighbor dog got sprayed by a skunk, I said out loud “well, our dogs ate everything, but at least they missed THAT.”
And oh, how the universe LOL’ed.
Stella wakes up early, and the good part about having a backyard is I can let her out and go back to bed. This morning, around 5, she came back in from sniffing things and my eyes started to sting. I buried my head in the pillows and tried to convince myself I was having a particularly lucid dream.
I have no idea what to do with a dog who smells of skunk at 5am. I washed her as best I could with dish soap.
When I woke up a little more, I scoured the internet for ideas. I had none of the ingredients listed here – peroxide or tomato juice or lemon juice or whathaveyou. I did, however, have Febreze.
Yeah, I used a half a bottle of Febreze to soap up the damn skunky dog. Do you have a better idea?
Stella went back to the vet with an itchy butt rash (unrelated to her surgery). It's almost worth the $200 I spent today to see her walking around, bumping the cone into walls and finding herself unable to get through small spaces.
To the surprise of exactly no one, Stella is not very good at staying still and letting her leg heal.
Up at 1 am. Up at 3 am. Up at 5 am. Parents of newborns will have no sympathy - except for that to take her out, I have to brave both the neighbor's tough-ass cat and the raccoons.
After two days of constant whining, chewing and peeing I asked the vet for something to knock her out. (I think my exact words were "please, save me, I would really like to leave my house") Now she's stumbling around all drunk-like, and her eyes are even redder than normal. It hurts me terribly to see her so miserable, but if she doesn't stay still, she runs the risk of ruining the surgery, wasting time and pain. Poor stoned girl.
The vet just called and said that Stella is in recovery from her surgery, and is on a continuous morphine drip through the night, but should be just fine. The first two weeks of her recovery are probably bound to be the hardest - she's not supposed to use stairs, and nothing but trips to the bathroom for the outside world. There's also going to be a long period of time where she can't be off-leash, but she's been really good about it so far, and I've got high hopes.
Thanks to everyone who contributed to the Stella fund. The amazing generosity of people - even those she has barked at/left hair on/rooted through their garbage astounds me. Thanks also to all my friends for being there to listen to me and my drama-queen self, who let me get all teary, and who sent me music. All yall rock.