Little Dog in a Big World

As Misha approached 7 months old, I had to seriously think about getting her spayed.  As much as I enjoy having a puppy, a litter of them is just way too much to even think about.  I’m such a sucker.  I wouldn’t be able to give any away.

So Thursday was Misha’s day.  We were up at the crack of dawn to get her to the veterinarian office by 7:30 am.  Boy, was she mad that her food bowl was empty!

I got a phone call at noon.  Everything went fine.

At 5pm, we went to pick her up.  My poor little puppy looked like she’d been through the wringer.  She stood in her travel bag with her hood of shame as if paralyzed.

At home, she sunk into her blankets in the playpen and whined…and whined…and whined…Nothing seemed to console her.  She finally nodded off an hour later.

She ate some food and took her first pain pill.  Then went back to sleep.  Around 10pm, she began to whine again.  I sat with her and pet her, keeping her calm.  She didn’t calm down until after midnight when she dozed off.

She got through the night okay with a couple of whimpers.  At least, that day is over.