Fragments From Floyd

Even as we speak, er type, I hear the coos and baby-talk coming from the other room where the New and Improved Tsuga is being coddled and indulged, squeeking his favorite squeeze-toy and wagging his tail against the side of the woodstove like he's keeping time to an internal doggie rap-song. He seems far more like his old self than he did as late as last night when he was still demented and uncoordinated from general anesthesia, pain killer and sedative. He was having an especially bad time of it changing direction on the hardwood floors; his eyes were bloodshot, and he possessed an uncharacteristic hang-dog expression that he has lost this morning.

Tsuga is understandably just a little chagrined at his bareness where they shaved him. He stands a lot because sitting down on the southern parts is not and won't be comfortable for a few days. But already this morning when we let him out to get rid of some of the gallon of water he's put down since he got home, he chased the cat. She seemed sort of glad to have him back in mock attack, but he's not supposed to get too rowdy too fast. Later today, we're expecting company so may give him one more sedative this afternoon. And pain pills, prn.

So, Ann is plying him with puppy treats, assauging her persistent guilt and second-guessing if it was the right thing to "put him through this". I'm happy to be done with it. By the way, the vet looked up the stats on leaving an undescended testicle. It increases the odds of testicular cancer over 13 times. Yeah, we did the right thing. And oh, for those of you who've followed Tsuga since week one, he now weighs 73 pounds. And he ain't done yet.