Stitches Are Out

Met with Tate’s surgeon today, took out the stitches and gave him the “all clear” and thinks he’s doing great. 

No more Tramadol, nothing else but Rimadyl and just for this week.  That’s the long story short.

She did ask about my concerns about the Tram, I explained everything as best as I could but in the end she thinks he was picking up on my anxiety.  I resemble, I mean, I resent that remark!  Doesn’t matter, when he woke up this morning I could tell he was better.  Woke me up to feed him, ate kibble without any yummies added in, wagged his tail for hugs and pets.  And he hasn’t wagged his tail for a long time!  When we got home, we walked all the way around the block.  He had to stop and rest quite a few times but he did great.  Now he’s sacked out.

Author: tatespeeps

Tate came to us in October 2007, was diagnosed with histiocytic sarcoma in February 2011, had a hemipelvectomy on March 15, 2011, and left us on November 28, 2011. He was 5 years old.

5 thoughts on “Stitches Are Out”

  1. oh good, glad to hear he is on the mend…and its ok Ive resembled that remark a time or too myself…maybe even just today!

  2. For Tate

    You can mash ’em, you can bake ’em
    You can throw ’em in a pot.
    You can fry ’em, you can broil ’em
    You can make ’em into tots.

    You can eat ’em with your fingers,
    You can eat ’em with your toes.
    You can stuff ’em in your navel,
    You can cram ’em up your nose.

    You can smother ’em with ketchup,
    You can scarf ’em down with beer.
    You can nosh and munch and nibble,
    Or store ’em in your bandolier.

    Oh, the choices are tremendous
    (They even come with marble rye).
    But the best of all the taters
    Is the dear, sweet Tater pie!

  3. Yaaaaahoooo!

    I like your vet Taters, sounds like a good human to me. All clear…now time to pawty!

    But what the heck is a bandolier?

  4. Okay, now that we’re out of the real “hell” part and have some perspective…I think I was right about Tate having side effects from the Tram. Tate hiding and panting under the dining room table for hours while we go about our business is not normal. Plus, Tate started rejecting his Tram, didn’t want to take it. When I told this to Rick (who is ALWAYS the first to say “I think you are projecting”), he said “You know, you might have something there.” We both know Tate is one smart dog.
    Lesson learned: Go with your gut.

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