We’ve had a pretty stressful week in the Toy house.
Our oldest dog, Pixie, who is only four, began showing signs of immobility by refusing to climb the stairs. For a while Sarabeth and I thought she was just jealous of her little sister Prim who needs to be carried up and down the stairs because she’s too small to go them alone.
But after a visit to the vet, it was confirmed that it could be a problem with her back. She is a dachshund, after all, and they’re prone to having back problems.
Yesterday I noticed her back legs giving out as she tried to walk. I wasn’t supposed to call the vet back with an update until tonight; I had just talked to her several hours ago.
But no dog, child, or wife of mine is going to stay in pain if I can help it.
So I called the vet and she urged me to bring Pixie in right away; it may be a disc problem.
Long story short, I’m sitting at home as I type this, waiting for a call from the hospital to pick Pixie up from surgery. Sarabeth is devastated that Pixie may be paralyzed, even though the doctors assured us that her procedure went just fine. Prim is confused as to why her sister isn’t anywhere to be found, and why we’re leaving her with some strange people in white coats for the day (she gets “the girl” operation today).
And me – well, I’m just wondering why this stuff seems to always happen around the holidays. I’m stressing out over Pixie’s recovery process, heartbroken that she won’t be able to play with her sister or her cousins when they come and visit for Thanksgiving.
Life is like that, sometimes, isn’t it? One day, you’re thanking God that everything is just right; there’s money in the bank, everyone’s healthy, Christmas is upon us, our bellies are full, and
BAM! It all just kind of happens at once.
I know this isn’t the most traumatic thing in the world; a billion other things could have gone so much worse.
But it shows how fragile we are. These little things we take for granted, like our dogs running circles around us when we get home from work, or just being able to be a little frivolous with the budget… if any of these things gets disrupted in some way, well, it very well could cause us to break down.
Don’t get me wrong – life is still great. There are still things to accomplish, goals to aspire to, money to be earned, doctors to thank, and a God to be praised.
The recovery will be torturous for Pixie, but luckily she’s a Toy, so she’ll be in the most loving, warmest care possible. And who knows – if we get a kid in the next couple of weeks, it might be good for him/her to have a more gentler, quieter Pixie than the rambunctious playmate that she always is.
I think Prim is wild enough for two dogs, anyway.
Read more about our dogs here.