You Want Me to Keep HER Calm?

Fresca, the Wonder Dog had to have surgery today to have a big tumor removed from the side of her neck.  Since it was the size of a small potato, you would think it would have slowed her down a tad.  You would think wrong.  We are talking about 17 pounds of pure adrenalin here, folks.  Nothing slows this dog down.

When I took her in to the vet's office this morning, she was her usual "talkative" self.  She was giving everyone in the office a piece of her mind.  Since she had foregone breakfast because of the upcoming operation, she was miffed and I can only guess what she was saying.  Then we had to go through her usual drill of her trying out every chair in the waiting room.  She hops up on a chair, looks around, barks and then jumps down and hops on to the next chair.  Luckily, the only other person and dog in the room had beat a hasty retreat soon after we arrived so we had the entire waiting room to ourselves.

Fresca's vet walked into the room and said, "OK, Wild Child...we're ready for you now."

He looked her over, we consulted for a few minutes and then he told me that he'd be calling around 10 a.m. to give me an update.  If all went well, I could pick her up after 4, depending on how soon she came out of the anesthesia.

I came home and said a quick prayer.  I even asked my Facebook friends to pray for her.  I figured if God cared about sparrows than He must also care about dogs.

My son responded, "Yes, Mom, but Fresca would EAT those sparrows if she could."


Our vet called me as planned to say that all had gone well and the tumor had been removed "fairly easily."  We have to wait for the biopsy results to see if there is anything else we need to know but the results won't be ready for a week or so.  Our vet also threw in a teeth cleaning while she was out.  Yay!  He went on to say that Fresca was already awake and he sounded surprised.  I wasn't.  Frankly, I was surprised that she was knocked out long enough for the surgery.  That dog is a perpetual motion machine.

When I went over to pick her up this afternoon, the nurse gave me her post-op instructions.

1.  I am to feed her lightly and make sure she eats slowly.  (This is the dog who gulps down her meal in 30 seconds flat.)

2.  I am to see that she doesn't jump around.  (This is the dog who can jump on and off a couch faster than I can say "No" AND change direction in mid-leap.)

3.  I am to keep her calm and quiet for 1-2 weeks.  (Sure!)

I started to laugh at this point.  "You have to understand, " I said, "that the words, 'calm' and 'Fresca' do NOT go together in the same language.  And to make matters worse, my son and his family will be arriving next week and she hasn't seen them in a year.  She is going to go ballistic when they arrive.  There's no way that she'll stay calm.  She'll be really excited."

The nurse went into the back to get Fresca and soon I heard the frantic scurry of nails on linoleum coming from the back rooms.  So much for calm, I thought.

"My," the nurse wheezed as she strained to hold Fresca's leash, "she certainly seems anxious to leave here."

I managed to get in a "Thanks" and grab my receipts before Fresca dragged me out the door and over to the car.  I no sooner had the door open than she jumped up on the seat before I could even stoop to assist her.

"Well, girl, looks like it takes more than a tumor to keep a Wonder Dog down," I remarked and we headed for home, with Fresca panting in my ear.