This shouldn't amuse me, but....

First, I have to say that I didn't need to be in two places at once yesterday evening afterall.  Ryan felt yucky so he didn't go to aikido; I got an appt to pick up Max that'd allow me to make it in time for the big kids class, but Mr W made it home and he took care of that for me.  Hooray!  Sometimes things work out.  Add to it the cake my friend Jane made me (an early bday cake) and my evening was not so bad afterall.

Today, I have a sedated puppy knocked out by my side.  It is from him that I get my source of amusement.

We have a new vet--our old one left the practice, and I had to pick a new one at the same place--and I know he wasn't intending to, but the course of our conversation yesterday cracked me up.  Even this morning, I think about it, and I crack up.

Maybe it's just delirium.  I slept poorly, and have picked up Ryan's bug.  Ouch.  My tummy.  My head.  My beeline for the bathroom.

Anyway, the vet said he'd send home Max with a lampshade collar, and sedatives, because he was very strict about neuters not being too active or licking themselves.  As we chatted and he figured out exactly how chaotic my house can be, he really was stressing the need for Max to be quiet and not overdo it. 

Hey, man, I thought, I don't have a problem with that.  I'll sedate the dog.  But whatcha got for me, dude, because heaven knows I need some quiet and reduced activity.  lol

When I went to pick up Max, we had yet another chat.  He was talking about Max's medications, and, well, going on.  Studies have shown, blah blah, about the pain meds.  Basically, his point was that I needed to make sure Max was comfortable, and not let the pain get away from us to the point he was miserable.  To make sure I gave him all his pain meds, and not quit if he looked/acted ok.  "I can understand that,"  I told him, "believe me, I've had four c-sections, I know you need to stay ahead of the pain or it gets the best of you."  Did he stop?  No-oo.  Studies show this...studies show that...dude, chill.  I'm gonna medicate my dog.  Into a stupor.  If you want, I'll medicate the other dog.  My kids.  Myself.

He did point out he sent home extra sedation meds, afterall.

"Oh, he did fine during the operation, and he had small testicles."

Why do I need this tidbit of information?  Why am I feeling a little insulted on Max's behalf?

"So the incision was small."  I see.  If that wasn't enough, I felt like I had to defend Max's honor, "Well, he's not quite six months, afterall..."  And he goes into "True, but I've seen some that are like this big"  (make a circle with your thumb and forefinger, just smaller than a walnut) "on a mastiff, and I've seen some this big..." (more circle representations)  "and I saw a uterus this big" (switch to index finger) "while some are this small," (pinky) "so you know..." 

Suddenly, I'm wishing I had on a watch, so I could look at it pointedly in a look-at-the-time way.  Give me my dog, you long-winded nutjob, so I can go home; I have to take my kids to their class (I wasn't sure if Mr W had made it home yet by this time.) 

While I can appreciate his concern for my pup, and I'm happy he feels he needs to spend extra time explaining it all to me, which is nice (the knowledge that he'll take his time and not be in/out of the room), I really am itchy to go. 

My appt to get Max was at 5.  It's now approaching 5:40, and I left Audrey napping and the kids all under Nolan's care.  I'm nervous, even though I'm not even 5 minutes away, that I'm gonna come home to a hysterical group.  I don't dare call and risk waking the princess.  I am going on the blind faith I have in Mr W, who said we spoke last "I'll be home as soon after 4 as I can."  I left at 4:55, and he still wasn't there, so you can imagine, I'm a bit anxious.

I'm listening to a lecture on balls, and pain meds; meanwhile my kids could be setting the house on fire.

And I have to say, I wonder if he's so sympathetic to Max's cause because he's a man.  It has to be a bit disconcerting, no matter how professional he is, from a male point of view, to be removing something that is so inherently male from another creature.  Doesn't it?

Or are people so heartless that they would expect the dog to be up and around, all healed, after a surgery like that, in a day?

I'm sympathetic to my little Max.  I was sympathetic to Shadow, after her girlie surgery.  I've always been a pushover.  Kids, pets, they know who's boss.

It certainly isn't me.

Max is on the mend.  He's wearing his collar, not licking himself, and quiet, thanks to the little pills I slipped him this morning.

I'm not feeling well.  Ben is home from school today. (thanks, Ryan) Audrey, is well, Audrey.  She feels fine.  She's chattering, watching Blues Clues, dancing around.

Mr W has been checking on me all morning.  :)  He's a phone call away, so I'm hanging in there.

But Max's medicine is looking better by the minute.