Fisher’s Convalescence

Last Tuesday, on the way home from Dog Obedience Class, my dog Fisher inadvertently leaned on the power window button, successfully unrolled the passenger side window in my Honda civic and jumped into traffic while at a stop sign no more than three blocks from my house. I got out of the car just in time to see him get hit by a white mini van unable to miss him as he ran through traffic. I scooped him up, covered in blood and feces, and thanks to the advice of an onlooker who saw the whole thing, took him to a local emergency animal hospital less than one block from my house that even though the vet told me later had been there for thirty-five years, prior to this event, was not, to me at least.

I handed Fisher off to them and to my horror, I sat on the very hard wooden bench only to hear him yelp and cry just a few rooms away. I was soberly asked if I was prepared to shoulder the financial burden of his care. At that point, I would have probably signed off my kidney and mortgage just for the hope of him making it. I was pretty sure he would die. I texted a friend the brief message – Fisher was hit by a car – and within fifteen minutes two of my closest friends were there with me in the waiting room.

Not long after, I was informed that Fisher had a fractured pelvis, which I was supposed to take as a comfort because surgery would be unlikely (so far). He was going to need 24-hour surveillance (observation) which included a trip to another hospital and a return to our neighborhood emergency center – in the meantime I needed to prepare for his convalescence and nursing (whatever that meant). True to her word, Fisher’s first vet who was nowhere near as handsome as his second released him to my care for the duration of his convalescence a mere 24 hours after his accident

Dog convalescence involves, at least for Fisher at this point, being confined to his crate for an estimated six to eight weeks. He has to take pain med every six hours and to date has not eliminated in a place other than his crate. He pants often, whimpers, cries and moves very little. When lifted he wails and fiercely struggles to the point of near hysteria. He cries through most of the night. Here and there, glimpses of his pre-accident self shine through – tail wagging, an unshakable love for avocadoes and the occasional characteristically pug head tilt.

I want to include this on my blog in the hopes of gaining some encouragement and acceptance for I have (and probably will for quite some time) blamed myself – if only I would have noticed him before he jumped out the window or for God’s sake have had the child lock on. Rationally, I know it was a freak accident that could have happened to anyone, but still I can’t help but shake my fists at the man upstairs for allowing free will to yield its ugly course in the life of my little dog. Maybe some good will come of this but right now, I just want to go back to the instant right before he jumped out the window and put the child lock on. Where is Michael J. Fox and that DeLorean when I need them?