Wednesday, January 25, 2017

Going to the dogs

This is the blog I wrote tree days ago before computer problems . I'll update later.
When the possibility of hip surgery first loomed on my horizon, I was adamant: I was coming home from the hospital. No detour to rehab. No sir t’s just a question of lying around waiting your turn for fifteen minutes of attention, if that much. I repeated all the negatives I had heard.

My dog, Sophie…how to describe Soph? She’s a Bordoodle (deliberate mix of border collie (the bitch) and miniature poodle (the sire). She’s 30 lbs., charcoal grey tipped with silver, big brown eyes that invite you to the depth of her soul. And yes—energy and mischief galore. At five she should be a middle-aged matron but she hasn’t gotten the message. At the same time, she is one of the most affectionate dogs I’ve ever owned.

Sophie has also gotten protective of me. When I visit at Colin’s house, she rarely leaves my side; at home , if an aide comes to help me during the night, Sophie comes too. Until she got used to the wheelchair, she pitched a fit every time someone go it out because she knew it meant I was going somewhere. I think now she finally understands I will always come back for her, but I don’t want to be gone so long she forgets.

What, you may wonder, does the dog have to do with rehab? A whole lot. I am one of those foolish old ladies who sees her dog as almost as dear as my children and grandchildren—she is family, and I’m all she has. I didn’t want her to be lonely—or truth be told to transfer her affections elsewhere. Christian is taking good care of her, and she sleeps with him and their dogs in the main house. But still….

My surgeon and personal physician did not either one say I had to go to rehab; they did say I would get much better much more quickly if I did. My family doctor, Dr. Richwine, is a medical director at the rehab facility we’re looking at and I know he’s a dog person. So, I jokingly asked if I could take my dog. When he immediately said, “Absolutely,” it was a done deal. I cannot—and would not—keep here there but she can visit. My daughters went to the facility and said there were dogs all over, and there are enclosed courtyards where they can run and play.

So I am going to rehab today or tomorrow, probably at Stone Gate. But I have to be home by the first weekend in February—when all the kids and grandkids will be in town for rodeo. Gives me a good goal.


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