I finally got Leah spayed last Wednesday morning. I say finally because she turned two in May. *blush* In my defense, I wanted to wait until she was at least a year old, since I’ve heard and read stories of smaller dog breeds being more sensitive to anesthesia and being more likely to have post-surgical issues. Her one year birthday rolled around, and I just got busy. And distracted. Totally blindsided by my grandfather’s choice to die, and then his death. Completely wrapped up with making sure Ryan was ready for preschool last fall. Very devoted to making sure I was on track with my surgical weight loss (lots of pre-op things to do). And then birthdays came along. And then my surgery. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Recovery. Learning to eat again. Pneumonia. New job.
And then it was June, and I was like, WTF, Leah, you’re two, and you still have the ability to reproduce? Uh uh, I don’t want to have to worry about buying baby shower invitations for my dog. So I made an appointment for her with the vet, and on the morning of June 30th, I ran her to the vet’s office, hugged her goodbye, and turned her over to the staff. I went back for her that afternoon, and WOW was she happy to see me. She threw up on the way home, drank a tiny bit of water and accepted her pain pill once I got her settled, and slept for about fifteen hours straight right along with me. She laid around a lot on Thursday, but seems to have bounced back fairly quickly, as she has pretty much been herself since Friday. I’m keeping her inside, though, and I’m not encouraging any play with her, because I want her to fully recover, you know? Abdominal surgery is nothing to play around with!
My now-spayed Leah girl: