3am - Gigi's bouncing seems to have triggered some pain, so we're up for a hot compress and some loving. She's circumvented the collar but only succeeded in licking the outside of the leg and not inside where all the stitches and staples live. By 4 am she's quieted down and I think I made it back to the bed.
6 am - All those days off from work make the usual 6 o'clock alarm cruel and unusual punishment. Then the sheep hear it and within minutes we've got the worst serenade of the century outside the bedroom windows. Gigi is now snoring contentedly. Figures.
The morning routine goes relatively well - Gigi doesn't seem to be limping any worse than before her Cirque de Soleil performance yesterday. She accepts her pills well (three cheers for lamb curry) but is not pleased with the reality that she stays home while I go to work.
Before I leave, my husband and I decide on the return strategy... I will call as soon as I turn onto our dirt road, and he will put the lead on Gigi, then hold it down with his foot so she cannot get up. I will park the car and come inside immediately (instead of unloading mail, work satchel, purse, etc) and we will strictly enforce the "down, stay" until she's calm. She has never been a boisterous greeter, but she invents new and exciting games, so there's no telling how it will go.
8 pm - Well, that strategy worked like a charm. No rowdy performances, no shenanigans, about 16 yawns as she releases her energy and within minutes we are outside, taking care of business, and into the car for a ride to the vet - another laser treatment. Gigi loves the Potty Park at the vet's and "good things" happen once again.
10 pm - pain pills down the hatch and one last rendition of "The Belly Rub Song" before Gigi gets settled for bed. She loves the song, especially the last line which my husband delivers with many different notes from the official version (that is, the version Mom sings). Gigi growls and shoots him "the look". Even songs have to follow protocol.
I adore bouvs.
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