Pets Are Almost as Much Trouble as Kids

Almost. Today we picked Sally up from the pet hospital. She still can't walk on her own, but we figured she'd be happier at home and it wouldn't be that much trouble getting her outside to pee. Plus, getting her out today meant only about $4500 total for her surgery and stay, instead of adding more money for every day of vet checks, physical therapy, etc.

We got her bed set up downstairs with some pads for her to pee on. She pretty much crawled off the bed as soon as possible, and dragged herself across the floor to Hutton's room to be with us when we went in there to do Hutton's AIT session this afternoon. I thought that was cute until I noticed she'd peed on the carpet. Grr. I then set up the pet kennel with the top off, so she wouldn't feel closed off, but can't crawl around after us, peeing wherever she wants.

And the idea that it wouldn't be trouble to get her outside to pee -- that would be completely wrong. After the dogs ate dinner, I attempted to lift Sally out of her crate, and realized that she's pretty darn heavy. Bitch weighs 60 pounds. No, that's not nearly as much as what I weigh, but if I needed someone to carry me to a toilet, I could at least help support my weight by grabbing their neck or something. Strangely enough, Sally isn't much help. I tried a sling approach - putting a towel under her and pulling up on both ends. Once I got her out of her crate, she was able to help a little, lifting her feet so they wouldn't drag on the ground as I tugged her outside. We made it 5 feet from the front door onto the front walk, and I pretty much dropped her butt in the snow, while supporting her front half. Strangely enough, this wasn't Sally's idea of a relaxing good time, and she didn't relieve herself. So, after a few minutes of holding her up while she didn't pee or poop, I dragged her back inside, then yelled for Hubby to put her back in her crate. I got her out a second time about an hour later, and that was equally hard, and yet again, she didn't pee or poop.

Seriously, she is like a 60 pound sand bag, but not in one piece. Imagine a 30 pound sand bag with three other ten pound sandbags sewn on at random spots, and you get the idea. I never realized how much of a wimp I was until now. I mean, I've got pretty good mom arms from lifting the boys, but it doesn't compare to dog-lifting. So, to all the vet techs out there, I commend you on the skill you show at the surprisingly difficult task of dog-lifting.

As the boys were getting ready for bed, Tully the cat jumped on the bathroom counter. I decided it would be a good time to clean her chin. She has some crusty junk on there that the vet said to scrub with a washcloth. I'd done it before without too much trouble, but tonight Tully attempted to get away, I grabbed her by the neck to keep her from falling into the trash can, and she bit me in the process. She chomped down on my index finger, underneath the nail, and YOWZA that hurt. I have it wrapped as tight as I can in a bandaid, to make the throbbing less intense. I really don't want my fingernail to get all purple, but I'm not very hopeful at this point.

Hmm. Aren't pets supposed to be such a great calming influence in our lives? Still waiting for that. Just kidding, furry children, I love you all, even when you cause me intense pain.
Sally, the good side
The Franken-dog side
Evil Tully lurking around after maiming me
The Favorite Son sleeping