Thanks for all the support and kind words Guys. As a psychologist, I know all about the locii of control and concern, and the relationship with stress levels. Knowing isn’t always the same as feeling though, and especially when something comes winging in and knocks you for six.
He’s still Rowan, he still looks at me with the golden boy gaze and the big brown eyes. Greys are the laziest dogs in the world, so I’m not seeing much difference in that he always spent most of his time roaching on the sofa! But obviously long walks are a thing of the past. He gets exhausted having to stand to have his dressing changed, tho I do think that will get easier as he gets more used to the new status quo.
I think I knew from the outset that a lot of the MY loss, as opposed to his, would be losing such a perfect physical specimen as him. I took such a lot of pleasure in people admiring him and complimenting him. It’s a bit like when someone admires your baby .. even if – in truth – it’s not actually that special, you think it’s absolutely the most perfect baby ever and deserving of praise and adoration … but that’s hard wired in!
I didn’t know before I had Rowan that I would feel like that … I’ve never had such a handsome dog before so it was a first for me. I’m not particularly proud of feeling that way, but I’m trying to be honest with myself and everyone here. He gets as much attention now, but of course, it’s different; it’s tinged with pity, and in some cases, an air of slight disapproval. (Something about a greyhound’s raison d’etre being to run, but that’s ignorance and dog racing industry PR.) Though everyone we have met says how well and happy he looks. And he certainly basks in the warmth of peoples’ attention – he is such a thesp!
I don’t for one moment regret my decision – there was no alternative, and we will prevail. It’s right that we should try to live in the moment as much as we can.
On the bright side, and moving away from my navel gazing – he saw the vet yesterday who was very pleased with the improvement in his elbow, and was – I think – rather impressed by my ingenuity in devising a Rowan-proof dressing. Perhaps I should patent it. He adopted the same approach when re-dressing the pressure sore, has given me more antibiotic tablets (to hide in ripe camembert!) and we don’t have to go in again until Hallowe’en! This morning Rowan bounded up the 4 shallow stone steps to the side garden in one leap! Go Rowan!
Thanks for listening
Polly, Rowan and Willow
Polly, I love the way you write, it is very introspective. Rowan is still beautiful, the proof is in the pic’s! He may just get to the point that my lazy boy has gotten to, he may get so adept at walking and running that people won’t notice his leg is gone.
It happens to us often, people just see my happy bubbly boy, they pet him, they say what a sweetie he is and I smile. I can see sometimes after we walk away they finally see the leg is gone and the suprise on their face 🙂
Best wishes to his continued recovery,
Elizabeth and Sammy
i tell gayle everyday, she is perfect. ro is perfect. we are not judged by the number of legs we have or the size of our noses or the width of our bums…but by the purity of our hearts. our tripawds have pure hearts – they are brave and loving and enjoying each moment they are given. we should be as good as they are…
charon & gayle
Charon, I wish that what you say was true, and in a perfect world, it would be. But the fact is that we are all judged, every day, on the basis of our appearance, the way we speak and the way we choose to present ourselves. Those judgements are as wide ranging as the people making them and they may or may not be true.
Animals judge us by our behaviour, and the way we treat them. Yes, they have pure hearts and spirits. Yes they are resilient and adaptable. I am not sure that they are actually “brave”; as that suggests some degree of choice. When my infant son was diagnosed as terminally ill people said I was brave to cope with his illness, but I don’t know that I was. You either do or you don’t, and I didn’t really have any choice but cope.
I KNOW that people make judgements about me because I am 6′ tall, because I have have red hair and because of my accent! I now believe that some people will make judgements about me based on my choosing to have Ro’s leg taken off. Obviously I don’t respect or agree with their opinion, but it doesn’t alter the fact they hold it. We’ve already had one awful phone conversation with an elderly relative who misheard – i.e. she thought he was OK and didn’t need any op – and went on at great length saying how awful it would have been to take Ro’s leg, and why it would be so wrong to do that to him. My husband was desperately trying to stop her saying what she did, but she’s very deaf and ploughed on heedlessly. (You can imagine how dreadful she felt when she realised her mistake.)
I know I am still emerging from a period of mourning for what was, even in the midst of celebrating what is. It is part of the grieving cycle. I know I am moving into the phase of acceptance and positive thought. I count my blessings, things could have been so much worse than they are.
Polly
Polly,
I know what you’re feeling. To watch my Rio go from this gorgeous, healthy, active girl to a dog with three legs and no hair that can barely walk the length of our driveway, and in such a short span of time, has been really hard for me.
And the attention she gets now is totally different — it used to be all about her physical beauty and now it is pity and sadness… “What’s wrong with your dog’s skin? What happened to her leg? Oh, the poor thing.”
You can’t change how people react to your dog… And you also can’t help but have those moments of grief when you think about what the evil cancer has stolen from your pup. Especially when it’s so apparent every time you look at them.
People will make their own judgements about what you did for Rowan. But you know you did the best thing possible for him by giving him the chance to live. And because of what you did, your boy has the potential to be with you and love you for a good long time. And when those people make their stupid judgements, you just tell them how lucky you and Rowan are.
We think your Rowan is a beautiful, perfect specimen! And if we weren’t separated by the entire US continent and the Atlantic, we would give him smooches on his gorgeous greyhound nose and scratches on his chin and tell him how beautiful he is.
Micki and Rio
I guess perfect is in the eye of the beholder.
Any dog I’ve ever had has been perfect to me. And that relationship between my dog and myself far outweighs what others think and say.
I told a medical doctor Shelby’s story. I said if it wasn’t for the turmoil in her life, she wouldn’t be here, now, doing the work she is so good at. The doctor said the price she paid was to much. I told her, that’s not your call. That was the cards Shelby was dealt.
It’s importent to Cindi and I that we concentrate on helping Shelby become all that she can be. I couldn’t care less what people say or think about Shelby or Cindi and I.
Celebrate the new journey that the 2 of you are on and don’t believe for a minute that Rowen and long walks are a thing of the past. We’ve seen Caira Sue leap tall buildings and chase tennis balls till we couldn’t throw another ball.
Focus on Rowen and your life from here on out and enjoy and treasure that relationship.
the chauffeur
Tate bought me a lot of currency in this superficial world too, he was a nearly perfect flat coat, pick of the litter (til we came along with money hanging out of our pockets, that is.) And he has a nearly perfect disposition as well. So every once in awhile, I look at him and think, “That is just not right” and feel sad. But only for a second or two.
I’m here to tell you that we STILL get a lot of compliments about what a beautiful dog he is – way more than pity, actually. People will ask in a matter-of-fact way “What happened to his leg?” and follow up with, “He seems to get along just fine.” Yep, he does.
At five weeks out, Tate was a slug. At six weeks, we went to our cabin and he regained his joy. I was astonished. He ran and played like crazy. Maybe Rowan just needs a vacation? You know, a few days of doing his favorite doggie things.
Oh Polly, same here.
While I do the pity looks to start with, we usually get the “but he looks so good!” shortly after. Usually….
I keep trying to remember that other peoples’ opinions is just that…other peoples’. I try to remember that what really matters is the agreement we made with our dog.
I’d be lying to you if I told you I didn’t get down about some reactions with other people, though. But usually when I look at my boys face it reminds me that other people don’t know $h@& about our lives and that he rocks my world everyday he is still here, whether he’s brave on his own or brave because he faces the choices we made for him.
This is a good place to be. Nobody here is perfect and nobody here expects it. This is not a club for attractive people or well-behaved dogs or the fit and slim with manicures. I have been around those people and I far prefer the ones here. As for those others, I say to hell with them.
I think my Dakota is beautiful because he is a survivor and was long before he lost his leg. Brave or not, something compelled that abandoned puppy to get up and live. I love him, just as Micki loves Rio and Jan loves Tate and Charon loves Gayle and on and on throughout the tapestry of this web site. I’ve never met Micki or Jan or Charon, but I know I like them better than the people I’ve lived next door to for 14 years. So yeah, to hell with them. I’d rather spend and afternoon with Rowan.