Emma's Surgery...Take Two

Even though she ran like a pro at Michael and Katherine's Turkey Trot Emma was still not feeling well on Thanksgiving. She was showing her characteristic symptoms of a possible repeat sock ingestion. She adores a good running sock as a mid-morning snack. Though I guard them like gold and put them up...she always manages to find a spare. Usually they pass within a couple days. So I was stumped. I called the vet and they said to bring her into the clinic. After a day-long barium x-ray diagnostic epic Dr Mary called with the verdict. "We think there's something in there and it's not moving. We need to open her up."

This is not Emma's first dance with Dr Mary's scalpel. Three years ago she ate a Greenie, fed to her by yours truly, and the darn thing adhered to her intestine and had to be removed surgically. Greenies have since changed their formula, removing the vast amounts of gluten, since many dogs died from the same affliction. Needless to say, neither Emma nor Zoe are allowed to eat Greenies.

I called the Dr immediately and told her to do what she thought she needed to. Three hours later I got the call to bring her home. Emma, still gorked from the anesthetic and pain meds, could barely lift her head from the floor as her lip slung open and her tongue lolled to the side of gravity. Dr. Mary immediately began showing me the x-rays. She wanted me to see why they felt it necessary to go in. She literally saved Emma's life three years ago and I was not about to question her motives. Then she told me what they found, in a word...nothing. There was nothing in my little Emma's tummy. She was sick, just sick.

After beating myself up about sending Emma to unnecessarily surgery and staying up all night with her, changing the towels as she was in too much pain to go outside and full of fluid from the iv fluid she received, I finally stopped. We can second guess every decision we make. We literally make thousands of decisions every day. All we can do is follow our heart and make the best decision with the information available to us at the time. That is all we can do. To worry, regret, wish, or stress about what could have, should have, or would have been is futile.

My 6 year old dog Emma, the first dog I've ever raised from a pup, is going to be ok. She's already wagging her tail, eating, and giving me kisses. She can't pull her trademark move of both legs stretched out behind her right now...but I bet even that will come back with time. If it doesn't, her bag is so full of moves that make my heart melt...we won't miss the super-emma-frog-legs one bit.

She's sleeping comfortably now. She looks relaxed and content as opposed to the moaning that worried Zoe and I last night as we curled up next to her on the floor. Thankfully, today was a scheduled day off. Thankfully Brett, who continues to love and care for Emma and Zoe as his own, is helping with the vet bill. Being faced with the mortality of someone you love strips away any pretense of comfortable detachment from those we care about. I consider myself lucky to be reminded of this today and so thankful that Emma is staring up at me with her tail wagging right now.

Thank you.