My poor little puppy, Comet, is still limping, hopping, and otherwise avoiding putting much weight on her back leg. Today is nine days post-injury, although I didn’t witness the discreet injury occur because she was just sprinting around on the trail, up and down a hill, then suddenly slowed to a tentative walk, and then a ginger limp. She didn’t fall, obviously twist anything, or yelp in pain. The vet has determined that it’s nothing serious and that she’ll resume her regular gait once it’s followed its natural course of healing. She continues to behave normally and does not exhibit any sort of distress, even with aggressive manipulation of the limb. She tends to be extra sensitive and overly dramatic, so I’m confident that she’d readily communicate any imminent issue. This temperament probably also influences the degree to which she will baby herself and be slow to fully return to normal function. I’m not judging her; we all react to things differently, and must do what feels right for us personally, dog included!
It should go without saying that I absolutely want her to feel better as soon as possible because it’s upsetting to think she’s in pain. Selfishly, I also hope she makes strides in her recovery soon because I miss having a walking buddy!
Also, obviously not human, Comet is one of the only “friends” I interact with daily. Her companionship on walks equates to feeling like I have a great friend at my side and fends off any loneliness and anxiety.
Since getting attacked a few years ago, I’m understandably more leery of male strangers. These nerves are largely assuaged with Comet’s presence, even though she’s ultimately much meeker and more of a scaredy cat than me! What I’ve noticed is that I must take some of this comforting benefit for granted a bit because it’s not like a consciously register that I feel noticeably more relaxed out and about with her than without her. Instead, when she’s not with me, I feel her absence both in terms of the joy of her company and the pacifying effect she affords my anxious brain.
I am all too familiar with musculoskeletal injuries that preclude ambulation for normal or exercise purposes. Usually, the only true “medicine” is rest and time. I’m glad that, as a dog, Comet has the innate understanding to listen to her body and not push through in the way humans do. She will let me know when she’s ready to walk alongside me by naturally returning to her healthy gait pattern once her body feels better. Until then, I’ll keep praying for a quick recovery, toughening up my own mindset when out in public, and remembering to fully appreciate all that she gifts me with her presence once she’s back at my side.