It’s been a pretty rough week as I have tried to recover from my surgery. Sometimes I’m not sure if Mom understands everything I tell her. For example, I was uncomfortable and my tummy was upset because of the medication I was taking, so I tried to tell Mom. I stood in front of her and stared at her. Stared straight into her eyes.
She did know that this was not normal, so she gave me lots of attention, but she also gave me some nasty mint flavored Pepcid. I spit it out, so she was sneaky and put in on a peanut butter cookie. She knows I cannot resist those. Then she asked Amy what else she could do, and after that, she gave me some bread with apple cider vinegar on it. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds.
Worse than all of that she checked my temperature. I do not think that is necessary. I did not have a fever, and I told her that. She was supposed be checking my incisions twice per day. I do NOT give anyone access to my underside if I can help it. I sure didn’t want to show my naked skin.
Mom is very determined to do what the doctor told her, so she got a flashlight and a mirror and put them under my belly and checked things out that way. It was a little embarrassing, but it was better than having to roll over on my back.
Anyway, I’m feeling better, so now I get access to the doggie door again, and I’m free of the inflated donut as long as I promise not to lick my incisions. That is a good deal, too. Okay, so maybe Mom does understand everything I tell her after all.