PLux (you know, like JLo?)

[Lily in her pup tent. (ha ha ha.)]

Okay, really I'm talking patellar luxation, or a luxating patella, meaning that Lily Bug's kneecap until recently had been sliding back and forth over her femur in and out of alignment, not too painfully but decidedly uncomfortably, such that she's been declining to run on her right rear leg for a couple of months.

So she had surgery on her knee, and we both had a visit to Ponder, Texas, where my brother-in-law is a junior partner in a vet clinic (i.e., we got an amazing deal - thanks Chris!). Ponder is... small enough that there's no stoplight. I was as queer as queer could be there, even just drinking coffee in the gas station (since I wasn't allowed to bring coffee into my sister's Mormon home, since apparently its very presence would violate the Word of Wisdom and soil the whole house). But anyway I don't mean to be a dick, I do appreciate their help and had a good time getting reaquainted with my nephews. And sleeping.

But she was a champ, really. No crying except when she was waking up from the surgery in a room with a bunch of strange, sad dogs in crates and she was thinking, "What the fuck did you hosers do to my leg? And why is my brain so fuzzy? Give me some drugs, now." She was extremely well-behaved on the plane in both directions, too. Now as she's healing, it's a matter of keeping her down more than anything - she doesn't realize they chiseled off and moved her tibial tuberosity (a chunk of her shin bone) from one place to the other, held there until it heals only by a little steel pin, and is apparently feeling pretty well - but I'd much prefer that to any complications or having her in any pain.


Here's Lily, pre-surgery in my arms, after the anesthetist shot her in the bum with sleepy happy drugs.



I watched the whole surgery, and I must say it was fucking cool. I was a couple of feet away, watching this master dog-surgeon-dude sawing away on my tiny dog's tiny bones. My brother-in-law watched from her other side, as he is learning to do the surgery but hadn't seen it done live before. I quite enjoyed it.


Here is her scar. It's a crappy camera phone picture. She looks like a badass now. But needs some tattoos.

E. the Catholic (my roommate) has taken to calling her tripod, which I find pretty funny. And after two and a half weeks, all her stitches have fallen out except the very bottom one, which the surgeon showed me how to remove. She must've done a bit too much today, as I was home and she was out of her crate quite a bit, because this evening after some serious bone chewing she got down from my lap and sleepily limped over to get to bed, not using the leg at all. It doesn't even look weird when she's trotting or running with a rhythm; from the opposite side you can't even tell she's not using that leg. But when she moves slowly, it's obvious and very pathetic. And absurdly cute.