It was hard, but we did it anyways

It’s swoon-weather out there, 50’s, sunny. Some folks are jogging in shorts. Everyone seems happier, even with the black-grass-snow crust on the sidewalks.

I took two of the girls out today for a long walk, George and Tiny Dog. They get muddy pretty fast, low to the ground with the melting snow. G does not care; Tiny Dog dances for me to pick her up. But today she trotted, fast, alongside, little feet clicking to the beat of the songs on my headphones. It was so nice out, we kept going and going, then got cookies and a bowl of water at the fancy dog store, Bad Dog Frida. Where, of course, there was much jubilation by the staff at the pups' cuteness.

Atticus was at daycare and Wren at the clinic. It was very hard to leave Wrennie—those old soul brown eyes looking at me from the cage. She needed three skin masses removed, and I do not work Wednesdays, so it is best if I am not in the building when my dogs have surgery. I am the worst worrier. I can rationalize and sort out my fears, and then it all gets smothered by my heart taking over—SAD LITTLE DOG, what will we EVER do?

So I went home. 

Always photogenic. When she first got the sweater from Nana.

I picked her up after lunch, all done, just like that. Thank you, Dr. H and all our fab CVTs! Wren is now in a dashing navy sweater with striped white trim. She needed coverage for her stiches on her side. It’s these sutures, though, that had her vexed when home. She got stuck on the dog bed, unable to navigate the wood floor because as she stepped down, her skin must have hitched, startling her. She sat there, forlorn. I picked her up and she was prone to panic, to run and scramble away. The meds have made her paranoid.

I took a nap with the little bean, trying to sit still, fighting the urge to read email and the web on my tablet, the compulsion to fill my minutes with electronic flutter very strong. But I forced myself to just sit with her, as she sat with me, after I had surgery and then chemo 5 ½ years ago. Her comfort, then, to me was immeasurable, and I hoped I could return a little to her today.

When she woke, every little move on her or my part made her whine-grunt so I got her some more pain meds. She came downstairs on her own and now is asleep, like usual, next to me on the couch, though, drugged. Small squeaks sometimes still slip out of her snout, but she looks more comfortable than before.

I put off her surgery for two months, but like my coworkers said, it will be good when it is done. In fact, I was so glad when one of the techs, Michelle, called and said: Wren would like to go home now, please. Ok! Hooray, my heart thrummed. Off to get my delightful spotted chihua-mix, ready to tuck her into her favorite down duvet.