Friday afternoon, I'm sitting at my desk at work and my cell phone rings. It's Matt, which is not unusual. Upon answering the phone, I hear his voice, completely frantic, telling me that Macy has somehow cut herself open and that he is on his way to the vet's office with her. I tell him that I'll meet him there.
When I arrive at the vet, I see Matt sitting on a bench in the waiting room. He's practically shaking and tells me that he's not sure what happened, but that Macy sliced her little chest open while he was mowing the lawn. The veterinarian comes out and chats with us, saying that she has "quite the cut" and that surgery will be required to fix it. He brings her out to see us before she goes under, and I immediatly understand why Matt is so upset. There is a cut, about 15 inches long, going down her chest and to her belly. All of the muscle layers have been sliced through, and there is a good 3 inches of skin hanging from her body toward the floor. Despite all of this, she was in great spirits!!
Of course, this just happens to occur on the Friday afternoon that Matt is to leave for a weekend long bachelor party. I tell him that he should totally still go, he's had the trip planned for weeks, and that though it will be hard, I can handle Macy and her ailments alone.
My Mom and I go to pick her up at 5:30 Friday evening. She is completely out of sorts from the anesthesia, doesn't seem to recognize me, and has a long stream og drool hanging from her mouth. Poor girl!! Getting her in and out of the car was interesting, but we managed. She pretty much just slept the whole rest of Friday, which was good.
The vet had to insert drainage tubes in her little chest, which meant that to keep her from tracking bodily fluids all over the house, I had to keep her dressed in a t-shirt. She was (and still is) quite the site with her lamp shade on her head and a t-shirt on.
The first drainage tube came out Saturday evening. I think she scratched it out with her back leg. Fortunately, after talking with the vet's office, I was informed that it didn't have to be reinserted, and that I could snip the sutures holding it into place out if I was comfortable. I was, and I did. The second drainage tube was a goner yesterday evening.
Upon getting her checked out at the vet this morning, we were told that she seemed to be doing fine and that we should just keep doing what we're doing. The sutures can probable come out in a little over a week. She's in great spirits, which makes it hard because she can't run and jump and play like she normally would. Ah, the joys of a puppy!! We're just glad that everything turned out okay and that she's going to be fine. I have a feeling that she may have a slight limp for the rest of her life. A constant reminder of what happened, and sign of what we have to be appreciative of. I'm optimistic that she'll again be my jogging partner in about a month - just as the weather is cooling off.
The thing at the forefront of my mind Friday was what could have happened. How did she manage to gut herself like a fish???? I was worried that Cash may have possibly gotten too rough while playing. However, upon entering our back yard, I looked to my right and saw the rotatiller that has been parked in the same spot for a couple of weeks. I walked over to it, and on the top blade that was sticking up, saw some hair and skin tissue. I had found the culprit. After talking with Matt, the most we can figure is that she went running across the yard and tried to jump over it, catching her underside on the blade and ripping her chest open. The rotatiller has since been moved. I'm just glad that it wasn't caused by Cash.
So that was my weekend, knee deep in pain meds, antibiotics, hot compresses for drainage tubes, curclating loads of laundry so we could change her t-shirts and the sheet that covered her bed. I couldn't have been happier when Matt walked in the front door yesterday afternoon!!! Good thing that little lab is worth every moment : )
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