Maxwell had a tooth cleaning appointment at the vet yesterday, and has not been at all himself since. He had to be put under, unfortunately for a slightly extended period of time since he ended up needing to have an impacted tooth extracted and some sort of antibiotic gel application, and when I finally picked him up he was rather woozy and dazed. I’m sure it would have been funny to the outside observer, to see him walking around in a confused haze, but it tugged at our heartstrings.
By now, though, I’m afraid he’s come around completely and is now milking the situation for all it’s worth. For instance, last night he refused to get out of bed and eat, so I hand-fed him his favorite (and very expensive) once-a-year-treat food. Then this morning, when it was time for a little food with his pain medicine, he sat there staring at me blankly. “What? You expect me to degrade myself by sticking my nose in a bowl?!” and so on. Eventually he ate the meal, delicately avoiding the pill, even though it’s supposed to be chewy and tasty for dogs. He still refused it after I covered it in peanut butter, and I ended up in a wrestling match to shove it onto his tongue.
And every time I try to get him to budge, to walk, to drink water, he flashes me his little dog-bone leg bandage that’s covering the IV spot, rubbing it in that he’s in pain and I put him there, purposefully …
… but of course if I try to take a photo, he’s having none of it. Cold shoulder.
Serves me right, I suppose, for feeling sorry for him yesterday and coddling him in the evening.
Unfortunately, I can’t help it. His pitiful little leg and face are too much to take – and the coddling will probably continue. Poor puppers!