Last night, I had the night off. I went with a friend to see the new Bond movie (well worth seeing), leaving my beloved in charge of the dog (with her full agreement, of course). Max's wound had stayed closed all the previous night and the dressing that I had left on overnight was clean and dry yesterday morning. We had felt confident enough to leave the dressing off for the rest of the day. His knee was rather swollen with fluid however, and we were rather hoping that his body would start to re-absorb the fluid and that the swelling would go down.
There had been no great change during the day but on my return from the cinema, part off his wound was looking swollen and angry. We feared he had an infection and that the wound might burst open. We resolved to call the vet's first thing in the morning and to put a dressing on his leg overnight, just in case. My beloved took the air-bed so that I could get a decent night's sleep upstairs.
The night passed quickly and I dreamed about trying to contact the vet's but being cut off all the time. I was awoken before the alarm went off by my beloved climbing the stairs to the bathroom.
'What sort of night did you have?' I asked.
'OK but a bit eventful. He got up in the middle of the night and started strutting around the room. His wound had popped open and he was dripping all over the place. I wrapped extra dressing on and cleaned him up as best I could.'
Downstairs we went and I was relieved to see that my beloved's 'all over the place' was typical female hyperbole, as in 'You never clean the toilet' or 'You always burn the toast' or 'there's mud everywhere': none of these expressions is true. We cut the dressing off and were relieved to see that all that had popped was a recently-healed suture hole. The removed dressing was sodden and his hitherto swollen knee was back to normal size. The dressing had no smell to it, so infection seems not to be a problem. Apart from the suture hole, the wound looked intact.
All-in-all, a trip to the vet's seemed to be pointless. We redressed the wound, my beloved went shopping, and I settled down to a cosy day at home in the cell, sorry, living room. I've had to change the dressing again after four hours and he seems a bit uncomfortable but is quiet. Meanwhile, we're keeping a close eye on him.
We're feeling quite anxious that he is not walking on the repaired leg as well as he did last time. I guess it must be quite sore. As I write this, he is stretched out on his bed looking quite relaxed and at ease. It will be wonderful to see him swimming and charging about again...
There had been no great change during the day but on my return from the cinema, part off his wound was looking swollen and angry. We feared he had an infection and that the wound might burst open. We resolved to call the vet's first thing in the morning and to put a dressing on his leg overnight, just in case. My beloved took the air-bed so that I could get a decent night's sleep upstairs.
The night passed quickly and I dreamed about trying to contact the vet's but being cut off all the time. I was awoken before the alarm went off by my beloved climbing the stairs to the bathroom.
'What sort of night did you have?' I asked.
'OK but a bit eventful. He got up in the middle of the night and started strutting around the room. His wound had popped open and he was dripping all over the place. I wrapped extra dressing on and cleaned him up as best I could.'
Downstairs we went and I was relieved to see that my beloved's 'all over the place' was typical female hyperbole, as in 'You never clean the toilet' or 'You always burn the toast' or 'there's mud everywhere': none of these expressions is true. We cut the dressing off and were relieved to see that all that had popped was a recently-healed suture hole. The removed dressing was sodden and his hitherto swollen knee was back to normal size. The dressing had no smell to it, so infection seems not to be a problem. Apart from the suture hole, the wound looked intact.
All-in-all, a trip to the vet's seemed to be pointless. We redressed the wound, my beloved went shopping, and I settled down to a cosy day at home in the cell, sorry, living room. I've had to change the dressing again after four hours and he seems a bit uncomfortable but is quiet. Meanwhile, we're keeping a close eye on him.
We're feeling quite anxious that he is not walking on the repaired leg as well as he did last time. I guess it must be quite sore. As I write this, he is stretched out on his bed looking quite relaxed and at ease. It will be wonderful to see him swimming and charging about again...
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