I took Rufus down to the vet this afternoon for a followup. He’d shrugged his way out of his bandages before we got to the stairs here at home, so I decided to just cover his leg with the sweatpant-bandage, since the vet was just going to take everything off him anyway.
He stomped his way out of that once I put him in the car, so I tucked the sweatpant in my pocket and walked him to the office. I was hoping not to have to put it back on him, but I peeked into the lobby and saw a few people inside. I figured they don’t need to get exposed to the goriness of Ru’s leg, so I pulled the loose wrap up his leg and tied a bow at his hip, so it’d stay on.
The staff started cooing when Ru came in: first the receptionist and then, attracted like seagulls, the other assistants and staffers. They have a serious crush on my doggie. Soon, one of them realized that Ru’s wounds were uncovered, except for the ersatz hip-wader he was wearing, and hustled us back into the one of the exam rooms, so they could get him taken care of right away.
The leg really is gruesome. I mean, to say it’s like raw hamburger would be an insult to raw hamburgers everywhere. How on earth he manages not to flinch when we’re changing the sterile gauze on it, I’ll never know.
Then the vet came in, gave him a quick once-over, and pronounced, “This looks great!”
“I’ll take your word for it, doc,” I told him.
“No, really! All this new tissue growth is fantastic. We’ll be able to stitch up some more of it next week, so there’ll be less exposure. Now let me get this drain out of him” — snip, snip, pluck — “and these stitches” — snip, snip, snip — “and we’ll clean out his wounds and rebandage him!”
Note: at no time did I write, “they put a muzzle on him.” The entire time that the vet was probing, taking out the drain tube and clearing out stitches, his assistant, a teen-looking girl (I’m terrible about guessing ages) who’s in love with Rufus, gently held him by the neck.
I thought, “Hey, I know he’s a really calm doggie, but this is stretching it.”
Once the doctor brought the iodine solution out to start cleaning things, he realized that a muzzle might be a good idea, so they set him up. Better late than never.
I told the vet that Ru’s bandages get replaced 2-3 times a day, because his musculature and his range of motion make it almost impossible for them to stay on him. It’s a real challenge because the sterile gauze pads also slide off the wounds, leaving them exposed to the air, germs, etc. I need one more thing to feel like a failure about. Trust me.
“What about the wrap I did last Tuesday morning? How long did that last?”
“Maybe 4 hours,” I told him.
“Really?”
“Yeah, man. By the afternoon, he looked like he had a neon green leg warmer on his ankle.”
He stared at Rufus’ leg. When he was done a-cleanin’g, he began a-wrappin’, putting base tape so high on Ru’s hip that it almost reached the other leg. “Tell me how this holds up,” he said when he was finished.
“I’ll take a picture in 6 hours. You’ll probably cry,” I told him.
But his enthusiasm didn’t flag. Where I saw sub-hamburger, he saw great signs of granular tissue growth and opportunity for stitching. We scheduled a surgery for next Tuesday morning, and we’ll see about our progress from there!
And now, on to the weekend, where Ru will make his triumphant promenade at our farmer’s market, and will otherwise lounge on his beds, rest, and heal.
Let’s just hope that bandage stays up.
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