Tucker, our dog, had surgery today to remove a number of fatty (and benign) tumors. I don’t think I was quite prepared for how Frankenstein-y he would look afterward, with exposed stitches down his side and leg (and back and head; the vet figured, hey, while he’s out). He seems to be doing okay, although he desperately hates the plastic Elizabethan collar he has to wear. He’ll be on paid meds and antibiotics, go back on Saturday for a check-up, and likely have the stitches out in 10-14 days. He also won’t be allowed up and down the stairs, meaning someone (likely my mother) will spend the night on the couch watching over him.
I feel bad hearing him whimper, knowing we can’t take the collar off, but hopefully he’ll heal quick. The one tumor — the main one, if not the biggest — was all fat but going into the muscle, so it was really advisable he have it removed.
It’s a lucky thing both my parents are retired, though, and can stay home to watch over him over the next few days.