She drives slowly and opens the window for fresh air. You don’t feel so good. You don’t open your mouth. Not that day or the next.

You get home and home feels good and she gets you into your nice soft bed. Ah. You fall asleep. For a long time.

You won’t open your mouth that night.

The next morning your Dad takes you running. It’s hot outside and you are getting hot and the way you cool yourself off is to open your mouth and let your tongue hang out. But you won’t open your mouth. Not that morning, not that afternoon. Except when your mom gets you some food to eat. Then you do. But all the rest of the day, no way.  Maybe tomorrow you will.

This is dental surgery for dogs.  My parents and doctor all agree this was part of my being hit by the car many months ago, 16 months ago, and what started out as a little crack in my tooth has now worsened so that my tooth had to be extracted.

I don’t know how my parents knew it. I didn’t tell them. I never complained. I was eating less but my parents assumed it was because of the summer heat just tiring me out.

But one day my Dad noticed that my breath didn’t smell so good and that I needed a dental cleaning. When my Mom brought me into the hospital for my blood work, I had to get on that scale again.  70 pounds!  “Joey’s lost too much weight” my doctor said.  The next thing I knew is that my parents were giving me all sorts of nice foods to eat, adding rice to my breakfast, rice to my dinner, sometimes little pieces of meat and turkey.

Now I think they’ve figured out that the reason I wasn’t eating was because it hurt to eat.

During my dental cleaning, my doctor Tamara noticed my tooth was really badly cracked. And so she took care of it.

Now back home, my parents say, “Joey, want a treat?” and I go over to her, obediently sit, and then she puts those little things down my throat again – “medicine” my parents call it.  Then they say, “Joey, want a treat?” and I get some nice soft bread.  And I’ve been getting a lot of food again, with rice and chicken gravy.

Eating is suddenly fun again.  Maybe I’ll even open my mouth and give my parents some kisses some time soon.

]]> http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/4480-dental-surgery-for-dogs-tooth-extraction/feed/ 0 http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/2512-open-toe-splint-or-cast-on-dog-inflamed-toes-indication-of-infection/ http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/2512-open-toe-splint-or-cast-on-dog-inflamed-toes-indication-of-infection/#comments Mon, 31 Aug 2009 01:23:44 +0000 Joey http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/?p=2512 [...]]]> If you (if you’re a dog) or your dog you know has his leg in a splint or a cast, this is an important blog post.  If you are a veterinarian, this is a blog post that you are going to be proud of!

open-toed splint

I’d like to write a little about my splint. The splint has been off for a few months, but I’d like to write a little about it, and to show a picture of it up close.

First, this is a soft cast splint. It has a little more flexibility and is more comfortable to wear than a hard cast.

The splint was a very important part of my recovery, and so were the instructions about how to care for my splint.

The doctors left the toe open for several very important reasons. First, it allowed air to circulate. Second, it allowed my parents to look for signs of infection.  The doctors tell my parents that if they see my toes are inflamed, they know to get me to the doctor right away.

Another important part of the instructions is to notice if there is a bad odor. That is another sign of infection.  If my parents notice a bad odor, they know to get me to the doctor right away.

Finally, my parents are always looking at me to see if my bandages are wet. If they are wet, they have to bring me to the veterinarian right away.  Wet bandages is not a good thing. And this is another reason why I must wear the bootie or the plastic bag every time I go out, even if just for a moment.

Doctors are very concerned about my developing an infection.  I’ll just be a dog and do what I do, but my parents will be responsible for noticing all the signs of infection.

In the days and weeks immediately following my being hit by the car, my doctor wanted to change my bandages every 2 – 5 days. After that, after the sores were healed, he instructed my parents to bring me in for a bandage change every two weeks.

To find out whether I cooperated with my doctors’ good ideas, please continue reading!

*********

I’d like to show you the latest in my series of designer bandages. This one seems to be designed specifically for me, the lightning bolt, since I like to bolt from the back yard as fast as lightening!

Now that the surgery is over, my parents are wondering if my experience getting hit by the car is going to stop me from trying to dig my way out again.  I’m not making any statements at this time, but maybe they have some plans to outsmart me.

In the meanwhile, I’m showing off my bandages.

Dr. Plonsky, at the University of Wisconsin, says that when humans see bright blue, dogs see a color that is softer, more faded, paler.  The lightning bolt yellow of my bandage is also a more faded yellow to the canine eye.

While you humans are enjoying this beautiful design, I’m going to get my rest, drink fresh water, eat some nice food that my parents have put out for me, and enjoy laying in my soft bed, which is right by the window, in the warm rays of the sunlight which bathe me.

One of my new friends was Evan. Here you can see Evan and me, as I was about to leave the hospital. Even has a mixed Labrador Retriever puppy. He said that he hopes his Lab will grow up to be as strong and healthy as me. Wow, that’s quite a compliment!

The air at Angell energizes and excites me. When I was leaving, I saw a lot of people who made me happy, and I let them know that by wagging my tail. I think that people really like it when dogs are friendly to them.  When I go to this hospital, people who pass by me, or who I pass by, say “Good boy” and “He’s a beautiful dog” and “He’s so friendly.”  I don’t understand “boy” or “beautiful” or “friendly” but I do know that people are saying the nicest things!

Outside of the hospital, I jumped into the back seat of my parents’ car, they jumped into the front seats, and we drove off.  Suddenly I started to feel really tired.  My dad opened the back window so I could get some fresh air. That was nice. But still, I felt very slow, very low on energy.   At some point the car stopped and Jane got out of her seat and ran around the car to the back and got into the back seat with me, and petted my head, and kept saying, very softly, “Good boy. Good boy, Joey.”  She said, “We’re going home!” I felt so knocked out and barely heard the word “home” but I do know that I was with my parents, and that was just fine with me.  Jane scratched me under my ears, and in between my eyes,  some of my favorite places. It was so pleasant that I kept dozing off.

Maybe my being so groggy was a good thing. When we got home, Jane walked me into the house with the lead on, and then she took the lead off of me. Freedom rang and I was able to walk around the dining room and the living room and the kitchen on my own.  I was able to drink my water right in the kitchen, in its old place.  Life had the ring of familiarity to it.

Then familiarity overcame me and I made for the door to the basement and nudged it open with my nose, and started down the steps to the basement and…I was on the first step when suddenly “Joey, NO!” rang out like thunder.  I don’t know what the big deal was, but next thing I knew the lead was attached to my collar and Jane was walking me down the stairs, on the lead, one step at a time. Might this have had something to do with the “instructions”?  Frankly, I was too tired to care.

Jane brought my bed down into the basement, where I made myself right at home.  It was nice to be home, nice to be able to walk up and down stairs, even with the lead attached, nice to be in the basement with my parents, and nice to be able to fall sound asleep in my own bed.

The next thing I know, Dad was saying, “Joey, come” and he walked downstairs, and I followed him, showing my downward mobility, and he put the lead on me. This was really great!  Another surprise!  I got to take a car ride with my dad very early.  He drove to the big 24-hour animal hospital and parked, and we walked in together.  Even at 6:30 in the morning it was filled with wonderful smells and signs of canine life and activity!  The last time I was here and Jane and I were in the waiting room, there was another little dog there who was very very nervous.  Her dad was holding her in his lap and said that she was always nervous when she was taken to the animal hospital.  Later, Dr. M’s assistant said that some dogs are nervous when they go to the animal hospital but that most dogs were very happy to be there and be around other dogs.  I’m in this group.

Soon, somebody came and got me, and we went off together to the back.  I remained there with new people and new animal friends.

Then my dad left.

Soon, Dr. M came and brought me to another part of the hospital.

I don’t have much appetite today, but I’m feeling stronger.  My leg is feeling better because the splint that Dr. M made for my leg yesterday (see “mango”) doesn’t go up as high as my first splint. This one covers my toes and ankle, but it stops below my knee. This gives me greater freedom of movement and is cooler.

At the same time, there is not much to do today.  Somebody came to the house earlier today and I was hoping to make a new friend and thus had a good time barking, but then Jane politely but firmly told me to “Go to your bed” and so I did.  I’m still not allowed to get too excited because when I get excited I jump up (maybe on the gate that separates the living room from the hall) and this puts pressure on my toes and ankle, which need to heal.

The shades are also still drawn because when the shades are up, I can see the people and their dogs passing by and this too gets me excited, in the hopes that I’ll make new friends. I like to make friends, but my parents have other ideas for me these days.

The instructions for tomorrow’s surgery that Dr. M gave to Jane said that I’m not allowed to eat after 8 pm tonight but that I can drink water until midnight.  That’s okay with me.   I don’t have much of an appetite anyway, though I think they want me to eat an early dinner so that I can get all my medications in before 8 pm.   Don’t ask me; I’m just following those who are following doctor’s orders.

Oops…Have to go!  Here comes Jane with the chicken broth to pour on my dry food so that I’ll want to eat.  Life is full of blessings!

Back home, I’m hearing my name a lot again.  This time, I’m also hearing the word “surgery”.  I’m not sure what that is, but Jane doesn’t seem worried about it. In fact, she seems pretty happy and relaxed. This “surgery” is going to happen the day after tomorrow, and I’m going to stay overnight at Angell and the plan is for me to go back home on Thursday.

What is this “surgery” and why is Jane so happy and relaxed about it? The surgery is to fix the broken bones in my ankle, and she’s happy about it because with the surgery I may be able to run again, just like I used to.  I’m glad she’s not worried about it because if she were worried about it, I might be worried about it too, and I would prefer to just be happy. Being happy is my nature, after all.

Back home, in the evening, my parents make me comfortable.  Feeling my loneliness, Jane carries my bed from the living room into the kitchen so that I may spend some time with my parents there while they are cooking dinner.

This new splint is a little shorter than the old one, giving me more movement in my knee, but still keeping my toes and ankle immobilized so they can continue to heal. And the new color is, according to Jane, “mango”.  Orange is a color that I, a dog, can actually see.

Dr. M seemed pretty happy, Jane seemed pretty happy, and Phil, whom Jane used her cell phone to call, seemed pretty happy. Me, I just wanted to get up and run around again. I wanted to see and play with the other patients.

But here you can see my mango bandages, which, as I’ve said, is a color that I, a dog, can see.

The next thing that happened was that Jane and the technician were holding me steady on the floor, and Dr. M. was taking off my old splint. Then he made me a new one.  It was important that everything be clean and sanitary. This new splint is a little shorter than the old one, giving me more movement in my knee, but still keeping my toes and ankle immobilized so they can continue to heal. And the new color is, according to Jane, “mango”.  Orange is a color that I, a dog, can actually see.

He seemed pretty happy, Jane seemed pretty happy, and Phil, whom Jane used her cell phone to call, seemed pretty happy. Me, I just wanted to get up and run around again. I wanted freedom of movement, that’s all.

But here you can see my mango bandages, which, as I’ve said, is a color that I, a dog, can see.

Today I went back to Angell the big 24-hour medical center, my beloved home away from home!  I saw lots of dogs but Mom kept me on “a short leash” so I couldn’t get too close to them.  She also kept me on “a short leash” so that I would have to walk s-l-o-w-l-y.  Something about protecting my ankle bone.

Pretty soon a new doctor, Dr. M, came out, made friends with me, and then together he, my mom, and I went to one of the examining rooms. S-L-O-W-L-Y.

This doctor is a surgeon.  In the examining room, the surgeon doctor had his own private assistant.  Dr. M talked a lot to my mom, Jane, who said “uh huh” and “I got it” a lot. Then he showed her x-rays.  Wow! There were pictures of my toe bones and foot bones and ankle bones right up there!  He showed her where my toes were broken and where my ankle was broken.

He showed her where they wanted to do surgery and what they wanted to do.  None of that was interesting to me.  I kept hearing my name, ‘Joey…Joey…Joey…”, which usually catches my attention, but today I was much more interested in the other patients in the hospital.  Honestly, the more he and Jane talked the longer I got to enjoy the smells and sounds of the other patients in the hospital.