Small Victories

So despite Clover's incessant bouncing, swimming, and sofa-surfing, there was one thing that eluded him:

The leg lift.

My masculine (10 pound, fuzzy) dog is an avid leg lifter. He's house broken beyond belief but outside, no vertical surface goes untouched.

I think the worst part of these whole will-be-year-long knee(s) ordeal, for Clover, is that he was forced to pee with four legs on the ground. Both injured and post-op, Clover would attempt to leg lift, only to have to quickly put down the other leg to steady himself. He would shoot an embarrassed look over his shoulder at me, then stare at the grass.

Every morning, or when I come home from work, it's been a ridiculous little game, where I am cheering for every second he manages to support his weight on his single, bald, hind leg. He's been getting closer and closer every day, but needed to put down the leg in the last few moments.

But today, my friends, my dog is again a man (albeit neutered): he made it through the entire, long, post-work pee while balanced on the knee that was reassembled only a few weeks ago.

Sometimes, it's the little things.