Poor Rip.
A few weeks ago we noticed a little bump on his lip. Resisting the temptation to dash off to the vet immediately, we decided to keep an eye on it. This resulted in watching it grow to about the size of a medium marble (not the big shooter one, but not the pee-wee ones either) and also to abandon the ‘wait and see’ attitude in the future. Our vet said it is probably nothing to worry about, but he wouldn’t really know unless they removed it and biopsied it. This is code for ‘only a heartless bitch wouldn’t pony up the big bucks to have this groody thing removed.’ Or at least that is how I interpreted it. Being that I can barely imagine life with out the Ripper, we scheduled surgery immediately.
He went under the knife yesterday. I couldn’t bare to take him, so the HSH did it for me. He said Ripken definitely knew something was up, as he refused to walk into the vet’s office (a place he typically doesn’t mind going) and eventually had to be picked up by the vet tech, to avoid being dragged, paws locked in the stretched out position, out of the HSH’s sight. He went on to say that that if his tail had been tucked any further between his legs, it probably would have been tickling his nose. When the HSH told me all of this, I practically broke into tears. Thankfully, the nice people at the vet’s office called me right after he had woken up from surgery to let me know things had gone well and Rip was resting comfortably. We have to wait a few days to get the biopsy result back.
Sadly the humiliation continues though, as he is forced to wear a cone so he doesn’t rip out his stitches, and I share these pictures of him, not looking at his best, with the world. He also has a little shaved paw where they put the IV in. Break my heart.
(side note: our vet is very good, but his bedside manner leaves a little to be desired. I really like him despite this, and as someone pointed out to me ‘if he were good with people, maybe he wouldn’t have been a vet’)
A few weeks ago we noticed a little bump on his lip. Resisting the temptation to dash off to the vet immediately, we decided to keep an eye on it. This resulted in watching it grow to about the size of a medium marble (not the big shooter one, but not the pee-wee ones either) and also to abandon the ‘wait and see’ attitude in the future. Our vet said it is probably nothing to worry about, but he wouldn’t really know unless they removed it and biopsied it. This is code for ‘only a heartless bitch wouldn’t pony up the big bucks to have this groody thing removed.’ Or at least that is how I interpreted it. Being that I can barely imagine life with out the Ripper, we scheduled surgery immediately.
He went under the knife yesterday. I couldn’t bare to take him, so the HSH did it for me. He said Ripken definitely knew something was up, as he refused to walk into the vet’s office (a place he typically doesn’t mind going) and eventually had to be picked up by the vet tech, to avoid being dragged, paws locked in the stretched out position, out of the HSH’s sight. He went on to say that that if his tail had been tucked any further between his legs, it probably would have been tickling his nose. When the HSH told me all of this, I practically broke into tears. Thankfully, the nice people at the vet’s office called me right after he had woken up from surgery to let me know things had gone well and Rip was resting comfortably. We have to wait a few days to get the biopsy result back.
Sadly the humiliation continues though, as he is forced to wear a cone so he doesn’t rip out his stitches, and I share these pictures of him, not looking at his best, with the world. He also has a little shaved paw where they put the IV in. Break my heart.
(side note: our vet is very good, but his bedside manner leaves a little to be desired. I really like him despite this, and as someone pointed out to me ‘if he were good with people, maybe he wouldn’t have been a vet’)
5 comments:
I haven't even gotten Max's teeth cleaned after the vet recommended it recently. I probably would have chose the wait and see option. I'm a bad dog owner. If you aren't convinced that you love your vet, you should go see Jess Reyna...
Steven
poor ripster! the little guy is going to be just fine! one day you will laugh at the cone. or as the dog folks like to call it, the "elizabethan collar" - as if to make it sound noble.
Poor Ripken. He has a nice momma. Least you aren't like my sister who decorated her dog's cone. I think she even still has it. You crazy dog lovers!
The Rip will be fine. Besides, this way, he gets better TV reception.
I think vet poor bedside manner is sadly pretty common. When the vet diagnosed our Bassett hound, Otis, with gastric cancer my dad asked if there was anything possible that we could do to help Otis. The vet replied..."I would not waste the money" We never went back and my dad has not gone to the vet since.
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