Our Favorite (Four legged) Martian

Last week our puppy (growing by leaps and bounds now) had a bit of an accident. We don’t know exactly what happened, but we heard him yowling in pain for a few seconds. We went outside to see him trying to rub his eye, and a short while afterward it started to close.

We took him to the vet (he was surprisingly calm in the car), and he said that he had a scratch on his eye. He couldn’t tell what it was from (and no, there is no evidence it was done by a cat, although we can’t figure out how else it could have happened), but we had two choices as to how to treat it. One, by putting in eye drops on a regular basis, and then hope that this would be enough to heal it, or two, to do a small operation where the vet puts medicine onto the eye and then stiches the eyelid closed for two weeks. The second option had a better chance of success – but it would be expensive.

Westbankpapa and I decided to go for the operation. My youngest son, who took on the responsiblity of the dog (and is being wonderful about it – I’ve walked the dog exactly once in the past three months, and fed him once or twice) was visibly relieved when we agreed to fork over the money and have the operation done.

I couldn’t resist the temptation to put in a little life lesson (I usually let our actions speak for themselves, but I felt the need to verbalize here). I told my son that part of the reason we insist he try to do his best in school is that eventually he will need to provide for his family. When situations like this one present themselves, he will be better able to go for the more expensive option if he has the ability to pay for it!

After the operation was over (about twenty minutes) the vet put a plastic shield over the dog’s neck so that he could not scratch at his eye, while letting him eat normally. He looks like a doggy astronaut. He has to wear this shield for another day or so, and in 10 days we have to go back to take the stitches out of his eyelid. The dog even has to take antibiotics – which we hide in his food and hope he eats. (Boy, does that bring back bad memories of trying to get our kids to take their medicine!). My son is in charge of the medicine, and he is showing responsibility here too.

Who else out there remembers My Favorite Martian? Back in the old days, when we had a television, it was probably one of my favorite shows…..

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4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. muse
    Dec 02, 2007 @ 19:19:23

    L’havdil, it reminds me of the years we gave our cat pieces of birth control pills every week. My sons grew up adept as cat midwives, since she liked to give birth on their beds, under their care, but there was a limit to how many times a year they could do it and a limit to how many creative ways we could find to get rid of the meowing dears, after we couldn’t find any more neighbors who wanted cats.
    Ahh, the trick? She loved it coated in brewers’ yeast.

  2. Jack
    Dec 03, 2007 @ 00:16:08

    Who else out there remembers My Favorite Martian? Back in the old days, when we had a television, it was probably one of my favorite shows…..

    You do know that show hasn’t been on the air since 1971. You must really be old. 😉

  3. aliyah06
    Dec 04, 2007 @ 06:14:41

    well, then I’m really old, too — because my kid brother and I never missed an episode!

  4. westbankmama
    Dec 04, 2007 @ 14:13:09

    muse – cat birth control!

    Jack – that’s a low blow!

    aliyah06 – I guess I have company!

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