Wednesday, February 16, 2011


We had some dog drama over the weekend. It's about Lydia, hence the post's title. Whenever Mom wants to let us know about the demise of someone we all knew, she very efficiently breaks the bad news in a mass email. The subject is the deceased's name. Sometimes she has good news about someone, and she'll place the honoree's name where the dead person's name typically belongs and so naturally, hilarity ensues. Anyway, Lydia isn't dead, but it's not really good news.

We made a brief run up to Virginia over the weekend. The dog's, and the children even, didn't join us. We took our puppies to the doggy spa. It was to be Lydia's first sleep-over. She had her lovey and her Monkey so we weren't worried. However, we received a call from a distraught doggy babysitter, who placed Lydia in her delux suite with Monkey the prior evening, and found her broken in the morning. There was no real evidence of a tussle, but she couldn't close her mouth. Somehow, and we will never know how, Lydia broke her own jaw. I assume this is a fight club sort of thing, and am resigned to the fact that she'll never talk about fight club.

After much drama involving potential surgery and having to transport her from our very conveniently located vet to an animal hospital that is wildly inconvenient and so busy they can't be bothered with you for at least 45 minutes once you're in the exam room, it was determined her fractures (yes, plural) were so hairline she'd be fine. A youngster like her, we were told, will heal up lickety split. So now miss Lydia is strapped into a bit of headgear. We have to grind her food into liquid. That bit makes me gag a little, not in the funny way. Still, after all the hullabaloo and what not, it looks like this pup will live. On Monday, she may even be declared healed by the vet.

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Location:The boodwar


Rusty said...

Hey Lisa - it is really good news that Lydia is on the mend. Years and years ago when I was a kid, we had similar happen to a cat. Not a real pet cat, just one of our un-named farm cats. Most likely it was stepped on by one of cows while roaming around inside the barn. You can imagine my father's solution to the problem. Screaming children ensued, followed instead by a trip to the all-night animal hospital 1.5 hours away. Two weeks and $400 later (an absolute FORTUNE back then - most likely grocery money for at least four months) The cat was completely healed up and none the worse for wear. Then two weeks after that the cat was killed while crossing the road. We are STILL not allowed to speak of this dark moment in the smith family history in front of my father.

I hope he does not read your blog.

duchessnyc said...

Lydia, oh Lydia... silly pup, but i'm glad she's on the mend!!

Kevin said...

Rusty, I think that would make a good children's pop-up book.

LMP said...

I agree with Kevin.