dog surgery

No Breakfast?!

Pam Hogle Main Blog, Stories, The Thinking Dog Blog , ,
Golden retriever puppy Orly cuddles a black-and-white panda toy
What do you mean I don’t get breakfast?!

Orly had her first real vet experience this week. Not the run-of-the-mill go in, get cookies, get poked with something sharp, get more cookies vet experience. Nope. She was spayed.

Surgery means no breakfast. And it means being left at the vet clinic.

It was not her favorite day.

First, I put her outside and gave Cali breakfast. Orly couldn’t believe it. She rang her bell, asking nicely to be let in. She escalated to batting the door with a paw. Harder and harder. Then whining.

By then, Cali was done eating. Rather than reward the whining, I let Cali go out, then let both girls in a few minutes later.

Orly wasn’t speaking to me at this point, but she agreed to get into the car.

She was happy to be at the vet’s, where she met a very friendly (and very large) Great Pyrenees dog in for a dental cleaning, and weighed in at 43 pounds.

She was a little mystified that no one offered her a cookie, though.

Then, the vet tech took her … and I left. She was very surprised by that, but didn’t have the chance to ask me about it.

When I arrived to pick her up, the vet said that Orly was in the back, cuddling with all the techs. Yes … and interviewing potential moms, I am guessing.

Golden puppy orly wears a dark blue onesieShe got home, had breakfast (and dinner not long after). And put on her surgical suit. No cone for Orly!

She was pretty mellow and cuddly Tuesday — the food was all it took to get back into her good graces — but by Wednesday …

Despite the medications that were supposed to keep her a little lethargic, she wanted to play. I kept her busy with treat toys.

Orly chases an orange treat ballThat worked for a while. Then, luckily, our new sofa cover arrived, and I was able to let dogs into the living room. Orly happily tried out the new sofa cover. Then Cali offered the first lesson on how to keep other dogs off of our sidewalks.

Cali’s method doesn’t really work, but it does involve quite a bit of muttering and grumbling at people walking by …

Several days post-op, Orly is full of energy, in no pain, and really wants to play. I am supposed to keep her quiet and calm for another week. Yeah, right.

Cali and Orly, both golden retrievers, stand at a large window

Can the Cone

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No dog should ever have to wear the dreaded “cone of shame” again. So many alternative products are out there.

I recommend getting at least one to have on hand for whenever you need it next. That will save you a few dollars (you know that the vet charges you an absurd amount of money for that cone, right?) and, more importantly, keep your dog comfortable.

Golden retriever Cali wears a navy blue onesie
The surgical suit fits snugly and snaps at the back

Koala recently tried a few options, including the surgical suit, which Cali is modeling in the photo (because a dark blue suit is hard to see on Koala).

It is essentially a little doggy onesie. A quick search reveals that they come in many colors and patterns, and even in a long-sleeved version. Just don’t forget to help your dog unbutton before going out to deal with essential business!

The surgical suit could serve an additional purpose: Anxiety relief. It’s similar to a Thundershirt in the snug fit. Thundershirts, as well as various wrap techniques, help many dogs feel calmer during anxiety-inducing events like thunderstorms or fireworks.

Golden retriever Cali wears her soft cone as she lies on the grassA more common option is the wide variety of riffs on the cone theme. Cali has a small, soft cone (the Comfy Cone) that used to stop her from fussing with her hot spots, back when she got hot spots. She has not needed it in quite a while.

Koala upgraded for her recent surgery, sporting a doggy donut as an alternative to the suit:

Koala wears a soft neck ring
Navy is not really her color.

She doesn’t look too happy about all of this, but either option is better than a cone. She can see, for starters. She can eat and drink, unencumbered. She won’t walk into walls. She just can’t reach her stitches.

You can also find inflatable neck pillows, similar to the ones humans sometimes use on airplanes (remember those?). But Koala’s collar is softer.

Whatever you choose, avoid the large plastic cone. Some dogs, like Jana, are so uncomfortable that they refuse to move. Fortunately, even though I didn’t know about alternatives when Jana was a puppy, she was a sensible, stoic dog and left her stitches alone without a cone.

The oversize plastic cone is a drastic solution to a problem that is really pretty easy to solve. I’ve seen people use toddler-size onesies, socks for sore paws, and other homemade remedies too. Get one of the commercial versions or come up with your own, but forget that awful cone.

Cali agrees. The only kind of cone she wants is the ice-cream kind.

Golden retriever Cali eats an ice-cream cone.