You have major surgery where they put metal objects in your leg, keep you in an enclosed area with strangers or no one overnight (knowing you hate enclosed spaces), shave off your hair, give you drugs, put a cone on your head, and send you home. In the meantime, they've told your caretaker that your diet needs to be restricted so you're getting no good treats and your movement needs to be restricted so you're only allowed outside for mere moments at a time. Now imagine you can't tell anyone what you want or how absolutely crazy these circumstances make you.
This is the little bubble my dog is currently living in. He went through surgery well. He's putting more weight on his leg than they usually see. He wants to run, and of course chew off those annoying staples in his leg. And oh man, is he unhappy! He can't possibly understand why mom hates him suddenly or who the awful food nazi is who replaced his mom. Dog food? All I get to eat is dog food? And carrots? I mean carrots are great, but what about those dog cookies in the cupboard or that plate you just finished? Can't I just have a small lick? A little taste?
I feel for him. You see, we're both trying to lose those pesky 5-10 pounds that have snuck up on us in the last 4 or 5 years. The difference is he has someone (me) to control his food for him so he's got it made IF I can be strong. The difference is, I have to be strong for both of us. Heaven help us! Don't come visit anytime soon cause we'll have our cranky pants on nice and tight for a few weeks while we adjust. I have a feeling it's going to be a painful adjustment period.
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