well, folks, atlas is in a splint. doesn’t he look sad and adorable? i am counting my blessings that, considering how very active he is, this is the first time we’ve gone through something like this in our nine plus years.

we went hiking on wednesday with friends at the sandy river delta. he was racing down the path and slipped on a patch of mud and limped all the way home. it got worse instead of better, so i took him to the vet yesterday.

apparently he fractured a weight-bearing toe and the splint is to help him keep weight off of it. (i don’t know how long it will last. i think he would stay quieter without it.)

the vet said that he is supposed to stay quiet – no running, jumping, or playing – for at least two months. can you imagine it?! atlas goes stir-crazy after a day of no activity so we are being super diligent for a while in the hopes that it will heal quickly.

he does not know how to go up and down the stairs slowly, so i have blocked off the stairs and we are living downstairs. the couch is the new bed.

in the interest of being honest, i will say that yesterday was horrible. he was sad and confused and stumbling. he would not lie down or stay still and stomped around with his splint and whined and whined and whined. i was mad and frustrated and sad and scared. in order to get him to stay still, i was not particularly nice, because he wouldn’t listen otherwise. i felt so ashamed of myself for behaving horribly to my dog when he was feeling horrible. i felt like the worst dog person in the history of dog people. i could not find the kind and patient version of me, the one who usually shows up when my beloved puppy is not well.

in the middle of the night, he came on the couch next to me and fell asleep.

today is a new day. he has forgiven me. i have forgiven myself. we will figure this out.

if i am more quiet than usual, this is why. i am downstairs with my silly pup, loving on him. (plus, he does not like it when i am upstairs and he is downstairs. right now, i can hear him at the bottom of the stairs, whining away. oooh. i think he’s attacking the splint. time to go.)