Tag: Cruciate

Well, that was some year!

My usual run down of what happened, or didn’t, in 2023.

January.

Having had my diagnosis just before Christmas 2022, I knew that January 2023 wasn’t going to be a particularly busy month. It turned out exactly as I had anticipated. On 6th January I was drugged, turned upside down and had my right cruciate ligament jiggled about with. I came home the following day and wasn’t allowed out of my living room without an attendant parent. There was no bitey face with Lenny. He got bored.

February.

This month started as January ended. I was still not “allowed” upstairs, I was going to physio once a week and I was banned from bitey face with Lenny. My leg was healing and I wanted to be out and about. I was being restrained by anxious parents who didn’t want me to undo all the good work. The physio lady had to remember she was dealing with a thirteen year old beagle and not one much younger, when I was getting my exercises. I got caught upstairs, laying on a bed. I didn’t get told off. Lenny was still bored without play time.

March.

Lenny and I got to interact a little. We might, or might not, have engaged in some bitey face in the living room. And the dining room, the kitchen, the utility and a bedroom. Oops. He did tell me that he missed me when I was being made into the Six Million Dollar dog though. We went on short walks as I was still officially not back to normality so we went to see nanny and grandad resting place. On the last day of March we went to the beach with Griff and his parents. It was blowing a hoolie but we loved it.

April.

The sun came out, it got warmer and we were allowed out into the garden, all the while supervised in case I did something silly. I was feeling much better and even the physio was surprised at my speed of recovery. I chilled on the grass and was allowed on short walks so I could regain some strength in my leg. Lenny went on longer walks and found some bluebells.

May.

Loaded into the car we had no idea where we were going. All we knew is that it took hours to get there and when we arrived it smelled of the seaside. We had a week in Cornwall, a place called Sennen Cove. My leg was feeling better and stronger each day and we managed to see plenty of places all the while having great fun. We spent the rest of the month recuperating, although I had another few days in the Cone of Shame thanks to picking up sand flies from the beach and pampas grass.

June.

Phew what a scorcher. It was way too warm when Smudgey & Ted arrived for a play date. Not that it stopped shenanigans. We went to the Paw Paddock and then to the pub to cool off. The remainder of June was spent recovering and trying to stay cool. Lenny checked up on his flowers.

July.

July was a time for trying to find crickets and grasshoppers to eat, as well as adventures to Leonardslee Gardens which is near to our home, as we have now found out. It was great and even has a Deer Park.

August.

The parents worked whilst the heat grew and we retreated to various cooler rooms during the day. It was Lenny’s birthday. He is now five, although he usually acts in a way that would make you think he is older. I, on the other paw, do not.

September.

We found ourselves in the car again, as we turned north and didn’t decamp until we were in our favourite place, The Lake District. Eskdale was our place of residence for a week of running around and having fun. We met Sasha, watched in awe as she rolled in Fox do-do, we went on a train, walked for miles, gazed at views, climbed small hills and paddled in cooling streams. For some reason we were tired for the rest of September.

October.

We had a nice day out with Smudgey & Ted in Brighton shortly before they went off to the new maison. Stanmer Park was great and we pulled like steam trains all the time we were there. The days were getting shorter and we were trying to solve the riddle of why we don’t get treats when we want them.

November.

Bundled into the car once more, we had a week staying near Griff’s house in Shropshire. The parents muttered something about the best Christmas present for Lenny and I. We didn’t understand and still don’t but we will apparently find out soon enough. We walked and walked with Griff, went to Ludlow and the parents got Cinnamon buns, whilst Lenny and I were forced to improve our begging skills.

December.

So it’s a year since my operation and the Christmas tree made an appearance. We allowed the parents to do their “work” thing whilst we helped them by being furry foot warmers. The paths got muddier, the days got shorter and now Christmas is upon the horizon. I had my tenth Gotcha Day, celebrating the day I strolled into their lives.

To sum up, it’s been an excellent year after a bit of a dodgy start. We’ve met loads of pals, been to plenty of lovely places and had far too much excitement for our parents nerves. And their shoulders. We have lost way, way too many pals this year which makes me feel sad and mortal. As I continue into my dotage, I know that I will one day join the ranks of those who have fallen by the wayside. Until then, I am going to enjoy it.

Happy New Year to you all, may it be peaceful and bring you comfort.

Why do they love us so much?

Three weeks ago today I was delivered to my local vets so that my bad leg could be fixed. I was put under anaesthetic and the vet surgeon opened up my rear right knee. He later told us that my “cruciate had completely broken” complementing that with “he’s in a lot of pain” and they couldn’t tell how long I had been in discomfort. I had something called a TPLO (Tibial Plateau Levelling Osteotomy) which I wont describe in case you are squeamish or have eaten your dinner recently. I was placed under house arrest in the vets overnight so they could observe me.

I arrived home the following day to see that I was still under some form of house arrest which was being dressed up as something for my benefit and to avoid any incidents or damages occurring whilst I healed. Lenny saw me wobble into the house and duly retired to his (one of my) bed to observe me from a safe distance.

To be honest I don’t remember much about the first couple of days due to being subdued by various pills, potions and drug patches to help the pain. I didn’t even realise that I was wearing what is colloquially known in the canine fraternity as the Cone of Shame. Imagine wearing a lampshade upside down on your neck and looking like a Frilled Lizard. Indeed, not a good look for a rufty tufty beagle. I did have the use of a surgical onesie, as well as a long sock type object called a Licksleeve. This covered my leg and meant that I couldn’t lick the leg or knee. What with the Cone of Shame, the Licksleeve and my onesie I was trussed up more fully than Hannibal Lecter.

It had even escaped my notice for the first few days that I was not allowed to go upstairs to my normal bed and that I had a parent sleeping downstairs with me. Again to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid, as if it would cross my mind to lick or chew the operation site. Lead walks in the garden, pills at regular intervals, rest, sleep and then more sleep were interspersed with food. Back to the vet on Monday and my pain killer patch was taken off which was a relief as it meant I could dispense with the onesie at least. I was given my first session of gentle physio and was checked over by the vet who performed my operation. All appeared well and I was allowed home, but I was still under house arrest.

Two more vet visits and I am feeling much better. I get physio three or four times a day whilst Lenny gets training elsewhere in the house. The parents are still swapping over each night to sleep downstairs with me until I am given the all clear to resume the normality of being a beagle. I have another week at least of downstairs rest after which I will be assessed further. I seem to be making quick progress with standing on all legs, building up my leg muscles and being more mobile and comfortable walking about. The infernal Cone of Shame is still there, although I noticed over the last couple of days that it is being removed more frequently. I am not chewing or licking my leg as much as was feared so it is hoped that with the wound healing, the fur growing back and my general mobility getting better, I can be without the Cone for ever soon. I even managed some “helicopter tail” for one of my parents when he returned home a few days ago from running chores.

So, why do they love us so much? When I was away in the vet hospital I understand that the house was quieter, there were fewer shenanigans and even Lenny missed me. Both parents were thinking about me and hoping that the operation would be successful of course. But in the first instance they wanted me back home in one piece. Now I am back there is still a great deal of upheaval in the house and I am still not allowed upstairs. I’m not resting as much as they would like and I am being kept from doing too much too early so I can repair my leg properly. They are very happy that I seem to be walking well now. It’s only been three weeks and I am feeling better every day.

One of my good friends, Zack, had the same operation on the same day. He too seems to be recovering well and we have promised each other that we would heal together, repair properly but not make it a race. I suspect his house was pretty quiet whilst he was away having his operation too. Even his brother would have missed not having him around for a day or so.

Maybe its the instinct to nurture that makes our parents feel sad and anxious when we aren’t around. We are very lucky that we are loved and pampered. Is it our cheekiness, our sense of fun as well as our ability to weedle our way into hearts to pull those proverbial strings? Maybe that’s why they love us so much.

This isn’t quite the Christmas present we wanted

Off to the vet I went yesterday. My leg isn’t getting any better and the current trial of pills to try and alleviate my ailments isn’t working. After the ignominy of being starved from 10 pm the night before I was taken to the local vet orthopaedic centre so I could be examined, prodded and poked. All the while I would be away with the fairies, sleeping and dreaming of squirrels to chase. The vet said that my stifle (knee) looked very swollen and I was in pain. He looked at the X-Rays and told us that there was a problem which needed fixing.

The outcome is that I am going to have an operation to repair my right cruciate. The operation is a Tibial-plateau-leveling osteotomy (TPLO) and involves the vet opening up my leg, doing some alterations to my bone and ligaments and then sewing me back up again. Apparently I won’t feel a thing until I come round and then hopefully come home the following day. Then its rest, more rest and then some rest to make sure I have rested enough. Also I will get some physio and maybe hydrotherapy to assist in my recovery. There are tails (see what I did there!) that the operation is fairly quick and successful so I am confident that I will be back up and running quite quickly after I have been diced and sliced.

It’s not quite the present we wanted this year but I will hopefully be in a better place early next year once the operation and recovery are complete. I will let you all know how I get on. I might even let Lenny take over my blogging whilst I am recuperating.

In the meantime I think there might be some turkey which I need my begging eyes for.