Best Laid Plans

It's About Shock

Shock - post-op

First off, I must apologize for staying away so long. I have about 4 just-started drafts in the hopper, but every time I start, something else happens. The latest involves my dog, “Shock.”

Shock (racing name “The Shock”) is my third greyhound. He was a racer, and a good one, a champion. In July of last year, his career ended abruptly when a ligament snapped during a race. We weren’t told the details when we adopted him. Shock is also a boy, but he pees like a girl, maybe because of his compromised leg.

My other two greyhounds were girls. My first, Jaicee, was 19 months old when we adopted her. She was a tiny girl who had run 9 races before being retired. She was shy and probably the best for my first. She lived until 13 years old, pretty good for a greyhound. She had aggressive bone cancer.

Storm, whom we just put down last May, never raced. She was 19 months old and also petite for a greyhound. She was friendly but subdued. Liked people, got along with the cats. A good girl. She also died of bone cancer just shy of 12 years.

And now there is Shock, a 4-year-old big boy. Full of energy. Super affectionate. Impulsive. And really a big baby - like most greyhounds. He is a handful.

Last week, while coming home from getting the mail, Shock got tangled in his leash. This has happened once or twice. I usually let go, and he gets himself out, screaming bloody murder the whole time. This time, he only tangled it more by jumping and freaking out. He started screaming, as he usually does, but this time he didn’t stop. We were right outside our house, and my husband came out to see what the matter was.

He noticed that Shock was holding up one of his hind legs, and it was just hanging. We got him in the car as soon as possible, all the while Shock was screaming and flailing. I had to hold him down in the backseat. Twenty minutes felt like hours as I just prayed to hurry up and get to the hospital. I am not a cryer, but I don’t think I ever cried that hard for that long.

His leg was broken. The break was on the same leg as the surgery, where he had a pin placed in his lower leg. The break was above it. They sedated him and kept him overnight and said the surgeon would call us in the morning. The vet really couldn’t tell us anymore. We saw the X-ray but couldn’t see much.

The next morning, the vet called, he was wonderful. He told us about all of the options and said he would call back after taking a closer look. When he came back, he went over the options again. My stepdaughter who is a vet tech in an emergency hospital was also on the call.

“The best option, in my opinion, is amputation,” the surgeon said.

My husband and I had to decide. The doctor answered our questions with compassion and practicality. We gave our consent.

Because my stepdaughter works in an emergency vet hospital, she says she hates greyhounds. Greyhounds are wonderful pets, but they are not good patients. I now know what “reactive” means. It’s like when I write assessment reports and say that a child is “self-directed.” What I really mean is “they do whatever the fuck they want.”

“Reactive” is when my dog bears his teeth, growls, and tries to bite me. Not his usual affectionate self, who will put his head between my body and my arm and just stay there. This is day three that he’s been home, and recovery time is two weeks. They said a repair would have been an 8-week plus recvovery so I guess we are lucky there.

He’s already figured out the “hide the pill” game. The first day, he took the cheese, but then he got wise. Since then, I’ve tried cream cheese, marshmallow, peanut butter, and even a piece of a hot dog. No dice.

He has been getting around pretty good on three legs, but to make matters worse, there’s about 2 feet of snow outside. If he didn’t have to wear a cone, it would probably be about 90% easier. It’s been a challenge.

And my poor baby will never run like he ran on the track. It’s ok. They are so beautiful when they run. But he never has to race again, and that’s a good thing.

Did I mention that I should be in Florida right now? Yes, we were supposed to leave last Friday for 2 weeks. It’s ok. I’m a dog mom.