As most of you already know, Lola was hit by a car on Sunday. Lately, she's been bustin' out and going after squirrels or passing dogs. Sometimes we see it about to happen and stop her in time, sometimes we yell ourselves hoarse until she comes back and sometimes one of the kids let her out and failed to tell us and we had no idea she was outside at all. So, I guess it's not that shocking.
She will be fine, we think, but she will have to have her hind, left leg removed. We could have attempted reconstructive surgery, but if anything had gone awry during or after that surgery they would have had to amputate. So we decided not to risk it at her advanced age of nearly 9. So. When we get our puppy back she will be minus one leg.
The girls didn't understand. Kate asked when her leg would grow back. Sarah wanted to know if some other dog was going to get Lola's old leg. They both miss her very much. Sarah asks at least 5 times an evening where Lola is. On Monday, as Lola's absence was sinking in she said "I hate it when Lola gets hit by a car!" So do I, Sarah. So do I.
We are not sure when they will perform Lola's surgery; they are waiting for the swelling in her leg to subside enough. Meanwhile, we've been assured she's being spoiled at the hospital. The girls and I went to see her before bedtime last night. She was happy to see us. In fact, she got a little too excited, and we had to say goodbye before she could further damage herself.
The house is eerily quiet without Lola in it. The bedroom at night lacks her light doggy snoring. In the morning, she's not there tapping me with her paw to let her up in the bed so she can crawl under the comforter, on top of the top sheet and try to convince me to oversleep with the warm dog against my leg. We hope they'll operate soon so we can bring Lola home.