Tag: Frances

Frances is still on restricted activity, aside from slow leash walking and her physical therapy. Her official re-check and post-op x-rays are scheduled for the 26th, so we’ll know more then, but for now it all looks good.

She still hates her crate, but will go in it if she has to. Last night, I put her in it for her own protection. She would not stop fun policing the cats, which involved her launching herself after them every time they did something bad. Which is approximately every 30 seconds.

She seems to be recovering well. I think? It’s just so damn hard for me to tell, because I have nothing to compare this with.

Because it’s all about Franny, these days, here’s more about Franny. At a week post-op, she’s walking well, stretching out her woe leg on her own, and occasionally she’s even lying in the frog dog position. As of yesterday, per the vet’s instructions, she’s off all pain meds, too.

I am in awe of how fast dogs heal, and of how fast they start to shrug things off. They’re truly amazing.

Miss Franny refuses to enter her crate, even when it’s full of chicken. Since she must be confined while she recovers from surgery, I had to get creative. This is the space where the bedroom, bathroom, and living room doorways meet. By closing doors and baby gating doorways, I was able to create an uncrate for Frances. It’s not her favorite thing in the world, but she tolerates it.

One of the staples is a little wonky, but everything looks nice and clean and dry.

Legs akimbo!

Apparently this is comfortable?

She is having ups and downs. She’s not interested in drinking water, so I’m spiking it with tuna and boiled ground chicken and serving it to her warmed. Her appetite has been okay, but this morning she only ate half her breakfast, so it could be better. All that is to be expected, I think. She’s touching her toes to the ground a fair bit, which is good, but this evening, she started carrying her leg up. That worried me, but then when I took her out to potty, she put her toes on the ground again. Not the most fun roller coaster.

This is going to be a looooooooong 12 weeks.

She’s not supposed to be jumping on and off the couch. She’s sneaked up there a few times, though, and when she does it’s hard to tell her no.