Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Smells Like Desperation


Now, in general, Clover is not a chewer. Aside from one incident with a corner of a baby doll cradle he was sleeping in as a puppy (this was his choice, by the way, not mine), he never really chewed much of anything. Some dogs are delighted to hunker down with a good nylabone, a hunk of slightly bacon flavored plastic, or a sterilized, hollowed-out cow bone. Heck, I know a dog who tore the handle off the fridge once. But not my fuzzy.

As you might have guessed by the knee injuries, he's a runner. Agility trials? Check. Top speed after a squeaky ball? Check. Even better, screaming after a pack of squirrels (seriously, this happened, there were like 14 of them, I swear his eyes went wide and he quivered for a moment before the charge) - check.

Hanging out in an expen, or on my sofa, or anything that does not require constant motion? Major uncheck my friends.

So what does one do to entertain a dog who likes to play the consummate Havanese game, "RUNLIKEHELL", but is physically unable?

Spend a lot of money on junkie rawhidey things in massive efforts of desperate bribery.

Yes, ladies and gentleman, if I were a human parent, my children would spend at least some (though I hope small) part of their childhood planted in front of the TV (though I hope educational programming) because I was at the end of the rope, no longer able to entertain or deflect them AND retain my sanity.

So Clover gets chicken-wrapped raw hides, bones that still have tendons smoked on them (ew), and Kong toys stuffed with peanut butter - or lately, my most recent failure of trying to find a reasonable non-dairy cream cheese. Not too many, of course, because getting fat would put unnecessary stress on his knee joint.

But dear god, I'm glad I can get him to chew on SOMETHING. Because at the end of the day, no one wins if one's caretaker goes certifiable.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Doubt

I scheduled Clover's surgery today. July 8th. My unwavering certainty that I was making the right decision has wavered.

Sure, he recovered well last time, considering what he went through. Should I really be putting him through that again? I take his picture and see how cloudy his eyes are. I call him and see how loud my voice has to get before he hears me. He'll be almost 14 by the time he's got two knees again.

But then, he hurt his knees both times because he was running around like (or with) a much, much younger dog. He doesn't seem to mind the eyes, or the ears, or much of anything else, as long as he's getting fed and has a toy and has me.

I'm afraid something could go wrong, or in six months something will go wrong. But my only other humane option is to put him down. Then I'd just spend forever wonder if he would have lived to be 15 or 18 or how long, happy with his bionic knees and without much vision. I guess at that point, I'd rather we went down swinging. I can't plan for things to go wrong; just hope - a lot - for them to go right.

I guess when it comes down to it, I'd pay another $1300 for another good year. And I guess I wouldn't be able to live with myself if, based on the facts of the past, I gave up while the odds seem in his favor.

That doesn't mean I won't doubt my choice, though.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Jail House Rock

Probably the most stressful part of this ordeal - for me certainly and I imagine for Clover as well - is how much time he has to spend staying still.

Pre-Op, any additional damage to the knee means additional arthritis. Post-Op, too much strain on the knee can make the surgery totally fail. Some movement to build back muscle is good, but it needs to be slow and controlled. So, staying off the knee is a crucial part of the cruciate repair.

I have no idea how people would go through this process without the use of a good exercise pen. They're available at places like Petco or PetEdge in various sizes and heights. They let your dog hang out in a room with you without being on a leash or in your arms. It also gives them some room to stretch out when you're not home.

Frankly, I use them a lot anyway as an alternative to a crate or a free-range dog. In the pic you can see there are two next to each other, one for Clover, and one for my temporary non-fuzzy dog. She sleeps in that orange bucket. It's weird, but, she is a whole other post.

Last time, with all the time I spent carrying around becasted or otherwise immobile Clover, I experienced a sexy boost in upper arm strength and definition. However, I also developed mild tendinitis in my elbows. So I placed the ex-pen where he could see my living room and kitchen and he was reasonably happy there.

Luckily I never really stopped this, and when he hears the cookie container, he'll hop right into his pen and happily settle down when he's there. He's content with it and my life's a little easier as well.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Crap.

To be fair, I knew it the moment he did it. I guess it's that slightly jaded been-there-done-that sort of mentality. It was nearly seven months after Clover had his first Cranial Cruciate Ligament (CCL) repaired, I was in my vet's office, looking at this:

CCL in dogs is essentially the ACL in humans. Think Tom Brady: run, twist, fall to the ground in pain. If you look at the right side of the image, he's got a lovely knee joint that is clearly connected. That knee had a repair in December of 2009. The left side of the image (appropriately entitled "ouch") shows the knee that is lacking one of the ligaments that connects the femur to the tibia, and is significantly swollen, making quite a space between these two bones.

The easiest way to tell if this ligament is damaged is a "drawer sign" - that is, if you place your hand on a healthy knee joint and try to slide the bone around, nothing happens. The knee will flex at the joint, but outside that motion, it's still. When one of the criss-cross cruciate ligaments is gone, you can literally slide the tibia forward like you can pull out a drawer. When it's bad, it's obvious to anyone that a knee just really shouldn't do that.

As I learned last time, for smaller, older, and or less active dogs, an aggressive bought of rest followed by some careful rehabilitation can successfully treat a partially torn CCL. Clover is smaller, and older, and, well - less active than he used to be, I guess. He was top-speed chasing around my aunt's one year old Havanese when it happened the first time. In all fairness - she is pretty cute. The second time, he was running hard into the house after an especially satisfying leg lift on a nearby tree.

Sadly, Clover does not do things by halves. The first CCL was totally ruptured, and his cartilage was twisted all around as well. In the words of the surgeon "pretty good mess." Sadly, with any CCL injury - whether treated by surgery or rest - there is a relatively high chance that the extra weight on the other leg makes the other CCL tear at some point.

So when I looked at round 2 radiographs and saw the drawer sign that is so similar to round 1, I sighed and called the surgeon.

You'd think a dog named Clover would be lucky.

But then, maybe he is, because I'm dishing out for bionic knee #2 in a seven month span.

I hope they take Discover card.