Convalescence

Two weeks before Olivia's puppies were due, she slipped off her line while we were gone at church and ran away with my mom's dog. They didn't return until 10:45 that night, and when I tried to coax her out of the doghouse so I could have a look at her because she was clearly injured, she was too traumatized to move. The next morning, we were able to get her inside, but she was still shaking and struggling to breathe easily. She had a pretty deep gash on the joint of her front leg, and I felt sick. We aren't able to afford a vet bill, so there was no question of taking her to a typical vet who would want to do an ultrasound to check on the puppies, etc., but not knowing what may have caused the injury, and given the state of her breathing, I was afraid of internal injuries, premature birth, and dead puppies. (Yup. I'm my father's daughter.)

The Lord was gracious, and John happened to find the name of a country vet 15 minutes away from us. He was in his mid-70's, mostly retired, and, as his low veterinary fees attested, barely making pennies from his profession as vet. He was a farmer's son, had graduated from Cornell, and employed a no-nonsense, old-school approach. He wasn't sure if there was ligament damage or not, and after telling John and I a string of interesting stories from his career (cows with rabies! cows choking on whole apples! a friend with parasites!), he kept her overnight before sedating and bandaging her up the next day.

Praise the Lord she was fine after 2 weeks of being kept indoors and daily bandage changing, and after a few more "Oh, no! She might be in pre-term labor!" scares, she healed up well enough to walk easily.  Just in time, too. The puppies arrived on March 2nd. :)

She learned to read during her pampered indoor vacation, too, so all's well that ends well.