Poor Dog

I was scared to death all day about the dog. Dh never called me from work with an update, and at 2:30 he called to say the dog wouldn't come home until 4. He never asked how the dog was doing. He said, "No news is good news." Shoot. Not to me. I've dealt with cancer before. Silence is not good news. All this waiting and uncertainty was really getting to me.

Shortly after 4, dh called to say that the dog was home, and he was in a lot of pain. They gave him meds, but only five days worth. I guess that's a good thing, that they expect pain to subside so quickly...?

When I got home from work, Riley was just laying there. If he stood, he barely moved. He looked afraid to move, which was probably pretty true. But then he started the crying. Oh my! That poor dog! He would just let out this looooooong cry. I asked dh if he gave him the meds, and dh said no, not yet. He wasn't sure if he should, if it was okay so soon after the surgery. I insisted he call the vet right away and ask. That dog needed something right now.

The vet said it was fine to give him the meds now, so we did, but there didn't seem to be any improvement in his crying. That's when it occured to me that the poor thing was probably scared to death. He'd never been in pain like that, and didn't know that it would ever end. Finally, he fell asleep, and the crying stopped.

Poor little guy.