My Dog is Broken

Grandma is hard on my dog. Okay, that's not fair. Grandma's 100-pound golden retriever is hard on my dog. Scout and Blackie were playing in the yard when Grandma (aka: Mom-in-law) heard a yelp. She didn't know which dog it was, but assumed it was Scout since he is older and not accustomed to all the rough-housing with hyper Blackie. But no. Young bouncy Blackie was the injured party. She couldn't put any weight on her rear left foot and the foot was just dangling.

Grandma rushed her to the vet who told her she had torn her ACL and to get her to the surgery center ASAP. Once she got there, after an examination, the surgeon told her that Blackie had torn her achilles tendon completely loose from the bone. It is repairable, but will require a loooooong recovery period in which she isn't allowed to run, jump or play. She is going to have an external apparatus that involves screws all the way into the bone to keep pressure off the tendon while it is healing.

So. Hmph. It looks like we will be trading dogs for a while. Scout will be going to live with T and the poms in New Town, while Blackie becomes an only dog at the grandparent's house. (Actually, I think this will suit everyone fine and it wouldn't surprise me if the arrangement became permanent.)

The fly in the ointment? Blackie can't travel, so Grandma can't come out to our new house to help us wrangle kids and get the house into shape. Instead of a week, she will stay through Sunday, then go back to Ginormousville to take care of Blackie.

Nothing is ever easy.