This is him one day after surgery. Isn't he a trooper? Thank goodness because it was touch and go for a while there. The narrowing in his small intestine unfortunately quickly turned to a blockage. Over the span of about four days we went from a conservative, change to wet food and wait and see to an aggressive surgery.
Life is funny because prior to this happening, Sean and I had agreed that there would be no more surgeries for Rogue. That last one took so much out of him and honestly, us too that we wouldn't do it again. Until we got the horrible call, with the worse diagnosis and the requirement to make the unspeakable decision. Yes, in theory "no more surgery" sounded perfectly fine. But in application, we love our boy and couldn't bear to let him go. Not without trying. And so we did.
What followed was 9 days of pure hell. Multiple times a day we received phone calls with updates. Updates telling us that he was still not out of the woods, that he had a fever, that it was too soon to tell.
At home the house was eerily quiet. I cleaned the house from top to bottom. The floors haven't been scrubbed like that in years. You see, Rogue hates all things designed for floor cleaning. And so I sat waiting, in a clean house. Silent except for the sounds of my broken heart.
We finally got the call we had been hoping for! It was time to bring him home again. He isn't out of the woods yet, but we are so happy to have him back and cherish every minute with him.
He is one lucky dog too. His Dad has made arrangements to work from home for the next week or two. I scoot right out after the kiddos to relieve him and voila' it's almost like having stay at home parents!
Welcome home sweet boy. You are one hell of a fighter!
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