Surgery was a success

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Cute overload
Our vet called this afternoon to let me know Lucy’s amputation surgery went well. Lucy was even able to groggily go outside to pee this evening, although her back legs were anesthetic-wobbly. Lucy was given some heavy-duty pain medication to help her sleep well tonight and if all goes well I will pick her up tomorrow afternoon and bring her back home. There’s a bit of safety-proofing to do here at the house before then, though: pillows on the couch and the big leather chair to keep her from trying to jump up; fluffing up her doggie bed and putting it front-and-center in the living room where she can see me working in my office; and possibly a baby gate at the top of the stairs in the kitchen to keep her from trying to go outside unattended.

Tri-pawed

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After scheduling Lucy’s amputation surgery for tomorrow (Monday) morning, I’ve been doing some reading and research about three-legged dogs. Although several people made jokes about changing her name to “Hop-a-long” or “Tripod,” I’ve discovered that a lot of people with a three-legged dog use the term “tri-pawed” or “tripawd” when talking about their pet — it’s become shorthand in some circles. Please note, I am not changing Lucy’s name to any of these terms; if anything, I would call her “money pit.”

One of the items I’m looking to purchase is a full-torso harness with a handle on it. The handle will allow me to lift and assist Lucy over rough terrain and rocks as well as up and down stairs and into the truck. Many tri-pawed owners recommend the Ruff Wear Web Master Harness and I think I’ll purchase one of these for Lucy. She’ll still jump in and out of the truck and run up and down steep hills, even if she shouldn’t, but she will certainly need some assistance for the first few weeks after the surgery. There is also a D-ring in the harness itself, situated midway on the back that will allow her leash to attach instead of on her collar — I’ve read that three-legged dogs need to have a leash centrally-located to keep them from being pulled to one side and losing their balance.

I spent the day today playing with the dogs and taking them for a long walk in the nice weather (shh, don’t tell our vet we took a walk). We’re headed to the pet store in a while to grab more dog food and probably some special treats, too. Lucy deserves a good day before losing one of her legs.

We Tried

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After two and half years of fighting Lucy’s leg injury with bandages, a toe amputation and an arthrodesis surgery, we’ve come to the point where a decision had to be made: continue spending time and money to “save” the leg (and potentially suffering from an untreatable infection the next time she cuts her paw open), or remove the leg and let her live a more normal life. It’s a tough decision.

I’ve been told by many well-meaning people that three-legged dogs do just fine. They run and play and don’t seem to notice they aren’t like the other dogs. I’ve seen this myself as there are quite a few three-legged dogs in the area. I like the thought that Lucy will be able to play and go hiking and camping without the concern that she’ll lose the hiking boot she wears and cut her paw open (again). We won’t have to worry about bandages and the eventual resistance to almost all types of antibiotics and downtime healing up her paw. The money saved on many fewer visits to the vet for exams and bandaging and re-bandaging and more antibiotics… well, that would be nice too.

The hard part is making the decision… making the decision for a family member who cannot make the decision herself. It’s not a decision I am making lightly, either. If somebody came to me and told me that for everybody’s benefit I would need to have an arm amputated, I’m not sure how I would feel. I know dogs don’t have the mental capacity to reason through this process and I shouldn’t anthropomorphize their “feelings” into the decision, but I can’t help it. It’s a “life-changing” decision for her and for me. I’ve made the decision and I have to convince myself it’s the right thing to do.

We have a consultation with one more specialist tomorrow afternoon, and while I don’t want to go into the appointment with my mind pre-determined on the course of action, I’m unsure what he can say that will change my mind about the amputation. I’ve also decided that I don’t want any kind of prosthesis for her — all of the dogs I’ve seen with an amputation seem to get around quite well without any prosthetics.

Pending some miraculous and game-changing treatment option from the specialist tomorrow, we’ve tentatively scheduled the surgery for Monday 28 November.

I never got the hang of Sundays

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I had ambitious plans today, including heading out to La Mittad del Mundo on the equator. This is a touristy spot that plays on the mystic powers of the equator, but has a lot of fun exhibits, a nearby Inca ruin site and on Sundays features lots of live music and dancers. I wanted to do this since all of the churches and religious sites in Quito would be packed full of worshippers, but fate intervened.

Okay, I won’t say fate intervened but I got distracted. I walked a few blocks from the hotel to find the trolle stop and came across the Plaza Santa Domingo where a presentation was being made. In conjunction with the city of Quito a Columbian musical dance group was performing. I guess it was “Water For Quito” day. I must say the music and dancing was mesmerizing and since I was about a foot taller on average than the locals I stood behind the small crowd (no pun intended) and took many photos. I also fell in lust with one of the dancers who kept “flirting” with me, and by flirting I mean she was within 50 feet and not repulsed. I doubt she even noticed me (albeit I was taller and whiter than most others in the crowd).

Suddenly the church bells rang and the church emptied out into the plaza. I relaized I had been watching the performers for over two hours and had likely missed my opportunity to catch a bus out with enough time to explore La Mittad del Mundo and get back before dark.

No worries, I walked over to the main square, Plaza Grande. I don’t know if today was a special event or if the plaza is normally so crowded, but I was glad to see at least one Policia for every fifty people because I was getting looks from some of the deviants… checking what I was carrying and if I was paying attention to my surroundings. I watched more performers and ate some queso y jamon empanadas for lunch near the San Francisco de Quito convent. What, you’re selling helado? Si!

I walked up a steep street headed for another cathedral and heard traditional music playing from inside a courtyard. It turned out to be a dance recital for a traditional dance school and they were amazing! After another hour I resumed my climb up to the cathedral which was a bit of a letdown once I arrived. I headed back down the street and realized I had applied enough sun creme to the top of my ears buy my forehead had sweat through the protection there. I suspect I will have a good burn on the top of my face and possibly endure some peeling in a few days.

After a few hours siesta at the hotel, I journeyed out for dinner. I fond a small South American-style pizza joint, and if I ever figure out how it differs from North American pizza I will let you know. I will say the pizza was good and filling, and the cerveza was very tasty

Time for a rant: I did not learn spanish in high school and my knowledge has been acquired through observation, Sesame Street and reading the Lonely Planet South American Phrasebook… plus my experience on my trip to Peru a few years ago. Stupid Americans, just because I can order and converse with the server doesn’t mean I want to translate for you when you order. Give it a try first, make mistakes and learn. Just because you recognized the logo on my ball cap does not mean we are friends. Also, if you’re a strict vegetarian visiting Quito plan ahead and learn how to ask for vegetarian dishes. Don’t get flustered when your dish arrives topped with beef and then give up and ask me to tell the server what you wanted. My spanish is no bueno, but even I can manage “sin carne.”

Now back in the room to hit the hay. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?