Marching Along

The dog has learned to open the baby gates. I am working on this mentally and am having a hard time working with it. She is eager to scramble up and down the steps and to be a part of the family again. I am eager for her not to need a repeat of her surgery, but also to have her not hate me. This is a continuing struggle. The plan is to move the crate downstairs this weekend (after, ahem, we take down the Christmas tree) so that there won't be quite as much up-and-down for her. When she's in our bedroom, she's usually pretty calm.

When she doesn't get her Deramaxx (which I sometimes forget as she is doing so well), you can tell. She is stiffer and less happy.

The fur is starting to grow in, too, but you can tell it will be a while. And the leg looks like it is atrophying to me, though really, it's hard to tell what would look normal under all that fur.

Meanwhile, she's caught on to the idea that the "long" walks are around the block, and while she will gaze wistfully at the extra street or the playing field, she really doesn't give much hassle to the block-only walk anymore.