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I’m not sure how much time we’ll be spending in here, especially at first. But…it has been a good experience to decorate a space just for Graham. The look for the nursery is vintage (thrift store/Goodwill) meets rustic (handmade) meets Pinterest (I wish)! Its a semi-farm theme. Blues, burlap, and white, with flashes of red. (I wanted more flashes of red, but oh well).
We have felt so loved and taken care of during this entire pregnancy. I had my third baby shower at work last week. I haven’t returned/exchanged a single thing that I’ve received as a gift. I’ve loved everything and received duplicates of nothing. And…we have pretty much every single that we need. So thankful.
I’ve been lovingly militant (Gregg’s word, not mine) about washing all the new outfits and blankets that we’ve received for Graham. I’ve washed everything as instructed, so it will be be ready for him when we gets here. What did I find when unloading his goodies from the washer to the dryer this weekend? A dead mouse. Decomposing. With my baby’s clothes. Pout face. I’d been so careful about washing his clothes, and then I run them through the washer with a dead mouse. Go figure. Don’t worry, I re-washed them. He’ll have a very healthy immune system from farm-living.
This is Max the day after his surgery. He’s depressed. This photo shows his Fentanyl patch, the tape that was used to keep his catheter in place, and his shaved leg with freshly inserted staples. Poor baby. The photo was taken a month ago, and he’s doing so much better now. He’s bounding around the house with pent up energy and going on short walks per the Vet’s orders.
Gregg nursed his puppy back to health. He did not take seeing post-op Max very well. (Those pink house shoes in the background are my mother-in-laws. She bought them so that she would have a pair to wear when she was visiting us. I was borrowing them because my feet were cold, even though they are about 4 sizes too big for me.)
She didn’t have surgery. She’s just being a happy beach dog. I thought some of you might like seeing these green sunglasses that I just can’t bear to part with even though everyone hates them. 🙂
I realize that this is an awkward angle. That’s what I get for taking picture while swinging on a hammock. Very cute though, right? She just jumps into the hammock when I first get into it. She doesn’t stay long.
Me and posting pictures do not get along. But, Brenna asked to see pictures. So…here you go.
You know that cutie picture of the happy dog that I posted yesterday? Well, he has been limping around for the past month or so. We finally sprung for the vet since he wasn’t getting any better. Turns out that that cutie dog Max has a torn ACL. I know! How can you be that happy when you are in pain? Good question. I was very impressed by the vet, by the way. I’m so used to the hospital where the providers have to either take pictures (X-Ray, CT scan, PET scan, etc.) or at least draw blood to figure out what’s going on with the patient. Not this vet. She just put her hands on Max’s left leg and told me that his femur (thigh bone) was sliding over his knee and past his tibia (shin bone). She said its sliding because there’s no ligament (the ACL) to hold it in place. So, now what? Surgery is the only way to fix Max’s knee. Without surgery, it would continue to get worse, and eventually lead to arthritis.
If a human tears his ACL, you get the surgery, no question. But, for this dog, there’s no pet insurance, so we will be paying 100% of the cost for the surgeon, anesthesia, and even disposal of the hazardous materials that result from the surgery.
This brings me to my question. How much is a dog’s quality of life worth? We got Max from a shelter, and paid less than fifty bucks for him. He’s a Border Collie mix. Full bred dogs cost close to a thousand dollars, right? So, if worth is measured by money, Max is worth fifty bucks. And surgery costs more than $50.
But that’s not the only measure of worth, right?
Why is Max worth more than fifty bucks? He’s a lover-dog, he’s funny (not intentionally), he’s happy, he’s a protector (at least tries to be). How do you explain why you love your dog? I can’t. And I can’t explain why he’s valuable to us.
Before my dog-loving days (before I married Gregg), I didn’t understand why people dumped so much money into their pets. Its just a dog, I thought.
I don’t know how to end this post without sounding incredibly cheesy. We’re going to pay for the surgery. We’re going to pay to fix Max’s knee. We want him to live the best dog-life he can, because he’s worth a lot.