So uh, did you know bulldogs are the highest risk animal to put under anesthesia, even above pugs? It’s obvious, when you think about it; they have to stick tubes and junk in their little noses and bulldogs have really messed up airways anyway, all constricted.
Well we felt good about dropping Tank off yesterday morning to get neutered, and the (fantastic) staff at the aminal hospital was all friendly and everything, but still…it was tough to leave the little guy there. Who knew you could get so attached to a dog after nine days?
Yesterday was my day off, so I manned the phones as Ryan tried to sleep. He worked the graveyard shift and then we drove the dog across town in horrible weather and insane morning traffic … it took us a good hour and a half at least. Needless to say, he was tired.
My job was to phone the vet’s office at 2:00 to see how the operation went. The phone rang at 10:00. Terror seized my heart. Unknown caller. Hm. I doubted the vet clinic wouldn’t list their number, but I answered anyway just to be safe. And to calm my frantic nerves.
Caller: — (like 2 seconds of dead air)
Caller: (sounds like he’s talking through a 1930s radio broadcast) Yes. Hello. I assume I am talking to the homeowner, Ryan?
Me: No you’re not. (hang up right in his stupid ear)
“What’s going on?” Ryan shouted from the bedroom.
I tried to take my mind off things by watching pirated episodes of American Dad and making paper snowflakes (which turned out mighty pretty if I do say so myself). (which I obviously do)
The phone rang at 10:30. And the call display said the vet’s office name.
I took a deep breath, got ready for the worst news, and answered in my nicest calmest voice.
Caller: Oh hi! This is __ from the vet’s office, I just wanted to let you know that Tank’s doing great, we haven’t done the operation yet but he’s under the anesthesia and the doctor says there’s no complications.
Me: *SIGH OF RELIEF* That’s great news! Thanks for calli-
Caller: Well, actually I’m calling to ask you if you want us to remove the tumor your dog has in his right eye. The previous owners had planned to do it eventually, and now would be a great time, since he’s already under. (something about lasers and it not being a big deal)
Me: Uh, well…does he need it?
Caller: (something about how it could turn cancerous)
Ryan flew into the kitchen with a wild look in his eyes about this point so I asked the lady to hold on for a sec, covered the mouthpiece and briefed him on what’s up. We decided that yeah, obviously he should get a tumor taken out of his eye! Yikes!
I called them back around two and he was fine. Everything was fine, great, he was well behaved, etcetera.
We picked him up at 4:30…the entire staff came out to talk to us about his care, and how his surgery was so dangerous but he was okay and stuff…yikes.
Have you ever seen a dog come out of anesthesia? It is the saddest, cutest, funniest but still sad thing ever. He was so confused, which was the sad part. He kept forgetting where he was when we were in the car, and jumping up, and then getting dizzy and lying back down. And his legs were so wobbly. And he couldn’t keep his little eyes open. We took a couple pictures once we got him home and relaxed, because AWWW.
I’m so happy everything went well. This morning he’s half back to normal already, and tried to go for a full-blown walk. I had to talk him into peeing on our garbage can instead.