Thursday, 20 November 2008
Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.
Tilly and I are nearing the end of our first week of six weeks of incarceration.
The x-rays she had at the end of last week led to some very disturbing news. Early indications would suggest that Tilly has Elbow Dysplasia (ED). I can't believe it. Of course, I wouldn't wish her to have any problems, but of all the problems she could have, this has to be one of the worst. Tilly thrives on activity, long walks and high-octane games. And here we are, starting six weeks of house-rest, with the prospect of ongoing lameness problems and limited exercise for the rest of her life. God, I hope they're wrong. I also hope that all the things I've read only apply to the most severe cases. There must be some good news stories out there, but I can't find many.
She's almost the opposite of your 'typical' sufferer of ED in that she's not a big dog, and without putting too fine a point on it, she's some way from being a pedigree.
She's coping quite well with being stuck in the house and resting, all things considered. Apart from the two or three hours a day we would have spent walking, we're also not allowed to play the active games we'd usually fill the rest of the time doing. Consequently, we now spend a lot of time looking at each other in bewilderment.
I'm sure Tilly must think that I've suffered a debilitating accident or something, now that I appear unable to throw a ball more than two feet, or indeed muster the energy to leave the house. She now spends most of her time looking a little sullen, looking hopeful, destroying toys, bullying me, or eating.
The latter activity worries me in itself. We'll need someone to come and grease the front door frame in six weeks time to squeeze us both out. Obesity problem in the UK? You bet.
It's not all bad - I've got an excuse to enforce more 'smooching time', and Tilly occasionally forgets herself and 'comes over all affectionate'. The very grainy picture above, taken in the dark with a camera phone, was an attempt at capturing the 'temptress' look she likes to give from the other side of the room if she feels that attention is lacking.
On another note, Saturday is Princes 'official birthday'. I've never known his real birthday, so the day I got him became his official birthday. Nine years ago I was getting awfully excited - only a few days before I could go and pick up 'the funny looking little dog' we'd met at the rescue centre. My little boy. My love.