Monday, May 4, 2009

Puppy Love

So Winnie was at the UGA Vet School for a week after her surgery. She was supposed to only be there a couple of nights, and after the third night that they wanted to keep her, I started to worry. In fact, when she didn't come home after the forth night, I had a meltdown and started crying. I was convinced that they were trying to hide something from us. I thought there was something seriously wrong with her. Billy told me that my "Nata" side was coming out.

For those who didn't have the pleasure of knowing my grandmother, Nata, here is a brief explanation. The woman was a crazy worrier. She had to find things to worry about constantly. When there was nothing to worry about, she just made things up. I had to call her EVERY evening to assure her that I was home, alive, had locked my doors, and turned on all the outside lights. We had to go through that checklist every evening. Then, she would go on and on about why I didn't live at home. This was when I was in my twenties, living on my own. She thought I should still be at home because there was no way I could possibly take care of myself.

Nata would start calling me at about 3 every afternoon, even though she knew I worked and/or went to school. Her messages would get progressively more desperate. First, it was all nice.."give me a call when you get home." Then, she would get agitated..."you should be home by now. Why haven't you called me?" After that, she would start losing her mind..."I know you are dead. I'm going to have your dad drive me to your house to check on you." She would be crying at that point. I would have to call her immediately and calm her down.

Apparently, some of that crazy worrying is genetically programmed in me. If I'm this bad about Winnie, can you imagine my worry level when the kids are older? I'm absolutely going to lose my mind worrying about 3 children constantly.

Back to Winnie...she was fine. She had some drainage from around her wound site, and they wanted to make sure it didn't get infected. They monitored her, and a week after her surgery, she was released. The day she came home, I sent Billy a text asking how she was, and his response was, "effing crazy and retarded." She was back to her old tricks! I love this crazy dog.

We have to keep her as calm as possible, which is nearly impossible. She's always on leash, and if we can't monitor her, she has to go in her crate. She also has a huge cone she has to wear on her head, and half her pitiful body was shaved. My poor Winners.

The first night she was home, Billy and I felt sorry for her so we decided we would snuggle with her. She can't go up and down the stairs which meant that we had to stay downstairs with her. Therefore, we all slept on the family room floor together. Are we crazy or what? We never get to sleep because of our children, and on top of that, we decided to spend the few hours of sleep we actually got on the floor! Alice just about laughed so hard she cried when I told her we did that.

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