9-day countdown: Spayed dog on bed rest, owner just wants to rest
9-day countdown: Spayed dog on bed rest, owner just wants to rest
Pets are on bed rest after spaying and neutering, but what about the owners?
When I adopted my puppy, Junee, from a no-kill animal shelter, I signed my name next to an agreement confirming that the company “requires all adopted animals to be spayed/neutered as soon as they are physically able to.” In fact, if I didn’t get my puppy spayed, signing this agreement also meant I agreed for the no-kill animal shelter to reclaim ownership of my dog and forfeit payment, no exceptions.
Some would consider that an aggressive stance. But with 6.5 million companion animals entering animal shelters annually, I 100% get it. I did, however, talk to the pet owner of one of Junee’s buddies. He was disappointed to learn that his adopted dog was neutered. He’d have wanted him to have puppies. I was on the fence. Although the attention that Junee gets can be a bit overwhelming — as in last week a driver screamed at the top of her lungs “THAT’S THE CUTEST DOG I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE” while blocking traffic — a small part of me thinks it’d be fun to give away some Junee Juniors to a hand-picked few of my social circle. Still though, a deal is a deal.
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Although I found plenty of rules on post-surgery, the best of the bunch being from my pet’s adoption center and the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, I didn’t find too much information on what it’s really like when your pet is spayed or neutered. I heard a few comments about dogs trying to get out of the Elizabethan collar, but that was about it. For those of you with puppies who just reached this stage of the game, here’s my day-to-day rundown of what’s happened so far.
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Day One: The Day of the Spay
Junee knew something was “off” when I didn’t give her a DENTASTIX dental bone as soon as I woke up. It’s a routine we started when I thought dog teeth brushing was going to be too much of a challenge. (I completely underestimated finger brushes and thought the standard versions were better. My mother gave me leftover dog toothpaste from our prior dog, Faith, and her finger brushes. Junee was immediately intrigued by the peanut butter flavor and chicken flavor ones. Although I brush her teeth the regular way now, I still give her a dental bone every morning because she enjoys them.)
But by not giving her one that morning, she started circling around in her crate, wondering if she dropped it when I walked by. (Dogs are supposed to fast from food and water the night before.) She looked at me a little longer than usual, but she trotted out of her crate and walked to the door so we could continue our morning routine. Although she was ecstatic to see us head to my car on the way back (this usually means we’re headed to my parents’ house or to the park), she started whining when she looked around to see a familiar route.
She looked at me a little longer than usual, but she trotted out of her crate and walked to the door so we could continue our morning routine.
I’m still impressed that she knows where this place is. I’ve been here one other time (for a follow-up booster shot), and she whined and refused to walk as soon as we hit that block. She wearily got out of the car, looking from my car to the door. Luckily, the lady who greeted her was someone she liked because she wagged her tail and fell over onto her back. The lady smiled and said, “I remember you! You’re the one who loves getting your belly rubbed!”
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When I was called to pick her up five hours later (7:30 a.m. drop-off, 12:30 p.m. pickup), I had a couple other errands to make so I picked her up a couple hours after that. She looked glassy eyed and seemed confused, but I was told she was very nice and didn’t pick at her stitches. She trotted down the steps and didn’t need to be carried until she got to my car, but she immediately snuggled up on the backseat and slept again.
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I carried her up the steps from my parking lot, and she slept for most of the afternoon and evening. I was told she could eat one-fourth of her usual meal at 9 p.m. or later (an hour after I remove all water and food); I knew she hadn’t had anything all day so I obliged. She looked uninterested and went right back to snuggling on her crate and blanket. At 10 p.m., she was wide awake and devoured it all, running under my feet like she wanted more. I played it safe. I was told diarrhea and intermittent vomiting were possibilities in the first 24 hours.
Day Two: The Day After
With her collar in place, she was wide awake and waiting for the dental bone. She was also particularly curious why she was on the other side of the baby gate after she woke up. (I usually block her from my bedroom and bathroom after her morning walk because she used to pee in my hallway and I suspect on my bathroom rug. From Week One [and before I knew about her fixation with baby carrots], she only goes into my bedroom to sleep in her crate and nothing else.)
Walking was fine. Climbing was out of the question.
I knew diarrhea was a possibility during the first 24 hours, and sure enough, she walked up to me with something in her mouth: poop. I looked around the corner and was startled to see she’d pooped on the floor. The thing is she’s never done it minus the very first week she came to my home, so it still didn’t occur to me that she wouldn’t bark her head off to go outside. Lesson learned.
After her afternoon walk, and trying (before I could stop her) to walk up one step near my parking lot, she paused. That’s when I knew she realized something was off. She stood on the step and looked at me helplessly. I scooped her up, as I did when I brought her home, and carried her up the steps. Walking was fine. Climbing was out of the question. After returning from her evening walk, I blocked her from trying to climb onto a storage ottoman in my living room.
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Day Three: Dog on Bed Rest, Me in Meetings
She was getting restless, but the diarrhea incident was a onetime occurrence. She’d had enough of not being able to see the comings and goings of the living room windows, where she usually poked her head in and out of my blinds when she wasn’t sleeping, eating or trying to get my attention. This was also a time when I had a morning Toastmasters meeting with a prepared speech to give, along with condo board duties. My bedroom is the only place with furniture too high for her to jump on.
She figured out how to reach her paws through the Elizabethan collar and bit through a small piece of the Velcro handle.
Although my bedroom has comfortable lighting for the day-to-day, I realized fairly quickly that it wasn’t so great for a speech via Zoom with a dog on bed rest. But good lighting hardly compares to making sure my puppy doesn’t rip out her stitches. Attendees would have to deal (although one person sent me an email later telling me to buy a $30 backlight and received a very opinionated response regarding veterinary and adoption fees, which are a higher priority for my wallet). I missed going to the park on Saturdays and enjoying my non-WFH activities. Meanwhile, she figured out how to reach her paws through the Elizabethan collar and bit through a small piece of the Velcro handle. I was exhausted by the end of the day, crated her, took a hot bath, and then sat on the floor to play with her and watch Season 2 of Netflix’s “Never Have I Ever” for the third time.
Day Four: Removing the Cloth Cone
I’m very strict about Saturday afternoon and evenings, along with all day Sunday, being non-condo-board days. For a volunteer position, you have to put your foot down about certain things. So while I was in the middle of cooking — after two walks with Junee, her repeatedly wanting to go outside again two more times to pee and get treats, her trying to yank and chew pieces of a blanket, and me trying to work on some contract details for WFH jobs — my doorbell rang from a tenant who needed a jump. Luckily she had roadside assistance (even though she didn’t have jumper cables), so she was able to resolve that without me digging out my own jumper cables. (I got into a car accident two months before, and nothing is where I left it after I got my car back.)
I’m not a homebody. Staying in one baby-gated room with the bathroom door closed (I see no reason for dogs to be putting their paws or butts on my bathroom rugs) was starting to wear me out. After three days, I was told I could consider taking off the Elizabethan collar if my dog didn’t try to chew at her incision or dissolvable stitches. She laid flat in the hallway looking bored. I felt sorry for her and took it off. Within five minutes, she curled up like a croissant and looked like she was gunning for the external surgical glue. Nope. I put it right back on. She growled, turning in circles, mad as hell that I’d figured out she was chewing at the strap and tightened it so she couldn’t get her paw through it again.
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I laid down on my bed and turned on Netflix’s Headspace. I tried to meditate, but she kept slapping a rope ball against the floor. I put her in her crate so I could complete a full 30 minutes of meditation. She fell asleep completely. I opened the crate. She poked her head out, looked around and walked right back into the crate to sleep for another hour. I wish I’d have known meditating for me meant she viewed it as nap time for her two months ago! I used to meditate every day for about a year. I haven’t done it since Juneteenth. Now I know I can go back to doing so. Regular walkers have asked how many more days does she have before the cone comes off. I was perplexed at first, but I’m asking people to read this post so I should appreciate the curiosity.
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Day Five: The Palestinian History Lesson
She knows I’ll stop her from chewing the yarn or cotton in her blankets. I woke up to her chomping. She tried to close her mouth as though she didn’t do it, but I could see a piece of yarn hanging from her mouth. I shook my head, took the blanket away and went back to sleep. Between a roof repair guy, a plumber and three trips to hardware stories for key copies, I think she was just more relieved to see me in one spot again.
He’d been terrified of dogs for most of his life, but he was trying to conquer his fear.
Although the plumber towered over me and was at least 6'5 and a pretty athletic build, he told me an interesting story about how Palestinian people were tortured by dogs. He’d been terrified of dogs for most of his life, but he was trying to conquer his fear. I asked if he wanted to pet my cone-wearing, leash-walking dog, who was whimpering from behind a baby gate and wondering what she was missing out on. Although his legs shook when she sniffed him, she just gazed up at him as he pet her. No fuss. Then she went for a walk and barked and chewed everything in her reach. I’m glad she decided to show her nuttier side after he left.
Day Six: Accidentally Well-Behaved
I don’t know when it happened, but I didn’t realize I have a well-behaved dog. I am on the alert for her biting or eating something she shouldn’t at all times, and now making sure she doesn’t run or jump to risk opening her stitches. But this morning was the first time I realized she doesn’t turn in circles while crossing busy streets, or dart out too quickly. She just sits at the corner like I’d been training her to do and then strolls across streets. I took a shower, came back and the place was exactly how I left it. I made breakfast in another room, and I came back to her chilling in a crate. It may be that she’s in smaller confines and wants to keep it neat, or maybe she really is just “growing up.”
She was also plenty annoyed with me for shortening her nails, but that “tat tat tat” against my laminate floors was starting to work my nerves.
I took the cloth cone off again to see what she’d do — and to sew the area in the strap that she’d bitten off — and she whined immediately, sitting under my feet. When I sat the cone to the side, she whined and just stared at it. Never did I ever think she’d actually want it back around her neck. Who knows? Maybe to her it was comfortable because she leaned on it like a travel pillow in her crate and would lay halfway out onto the floor.
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Later that day, I put it back on to take her for a walk (mainly to keep other pet owners and dogs away from her), and she bit the inflation tube and wouldn’t let it go. I had to carry her inside and wrestle it away. To my surprise, it was still intact. So much for “well-behaved.” She was also plenty annoyed with me for shortening her nails, but that “tat tat tat” against my laminate floors was starting to work my nerves. She darted into her crate. It took almost an hour to get her to behave enough for me to inspect them all, along with a couple treats. When she gritted her teeth, I gave up on her for a while but eventually came back. I was able to trim a few.
Day Seven: World’s Happiest Teeth Brusher
I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a dog who enjoyed getting her teeth brushed and fur combed so much. I wish she liked getting her nails clipped even 5% as much as she likes being groomed in every other way. She does this big, ridiculous, toothy grin every time she sees the toothbrush and sits like a statue to be brushed. She gets wiggly around the stomach area and armpits, but other than that, she’s excellent.
I feel bad for her now. She’s clearly bored. She’s now decided she prefers to lay in the hallway, looking through the baby gates at the two couches where she used to climb up to look out of the window. City workers were drilling, and she looked appalled that she could not inspect their work from my blinds.
I still didn’t connect the grapefruit to my dog’s behavior until I got up to throw it away, and she started pacing again nonstop.
I also found out just how powerful grapefruit is to dogs. She started pacing back and forth nonstop. I thought she was just playing around at first, but she looked like she was almost in a trance. As soon as I stopped eating it, she immediately stopped pacing and laid on the floor. I still didn’t connect the grapefruit to my dog’s behavior until I got up to throw it away, and she started pacing again nonstop. I don’t feed my dog any human food (outside of peanut butter), but the smell of grapefruit clearly does a number on her.
Day Eight: The Teether Dog Toy Is a Hit
I’m looking forward to her having her first wellness check tomorrow. Although she’s seen vets from the adoption agency, I’m now looking for a permanent veterinarian for her. This’ll also be confirmation that her internal dissolvable stitches and external surgical glue are working effectively, and the incision is healing.
This’ll also be confirmation that her internal dissolvable stitches and external surgical glue are working effectively, and the incision is healing.
Other than wrestling a rock out of her mouth, it’s been a usual day of working, shopping, cooking and catching up with loved ones. No cone at all. She flopped on the hallway floor, and waited for me to finish cooking and chatting on the phone. She’s also ecstatic to find a new toy in the mail: a Woof Rope/TPR Teether Dog Toy that she’s quite fond of flopping on her dog bed and sinking her teeth into.
Day Nine: The Vet Visit and Pee for Attention
I’m happy to report that Junee is clear for takeoff. I found out she’d been tricking me for two straight months with revolving door pee visits. She has zero health issues and has been doing this for attention. With heartworm and flea/tapeworm meds in hand, we trotted home. I bought a dog hammock for my backseat and a new bigger bed for her. She enjoyed the hammock and bit a hole in the new bed within a couple of hours; some things never change. Interestingly, now that she knows she got caught with her revolving door methods, she has not requested to go outside for six straight hours.
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The only peculiar thing is she came home, and I thought she would want to run aimlessly now that she could be in every room. She whined to get behind the baby gate to hide in my bedroom. I think she may be the only dog I know of who actually enjoyed bed rest.
And that concludes my countdown of spaying. Thank you for following along!
Shamontiel is a dog lover to her core: 500 completed walks with 84 dogs, eight dog-housesittings and six dog boardings at the time of this publication.
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