subject. If you keep looking, it will tell you the same thing as many times as you care
to read it. For some reason, I decided to keep reading the same thing for about a
week. In case you haven’t felt the need to read every single website that mentions
hip dysplasia, it’s genetic. That means I get to be mad at both the breeder for being
irresponsible and myself for not really taking the time to find a responsible breeder.
Mostly the breeder though.
Left untreated, hip dysplasia generally results in severe arthritis by the time they
are just a few years old. If treated, the dog can live a long and reasonably pain free
life. The thing is, the surgery is not cheap. The recovery period is long and hard. And
on top of that, it’s impossible to say whether the dog will be affected by the arthritis. It’s a tough choice to make. How do you decide to put your puppy through a long recovery
process to fix something that hasn’t really started to affect them yet?
I struggled with that for a while, and I’m still not sure how you make that choice
confidently. For me, it came down to the fact that once he started to show signs,
it would be too late for the TPO surgery. At that point, he would need a full hip
replacement, which is more expensive, and probably not any easier to recover from.
When we went to the specialist, we had kind of accepted that he would need the
surgery. When he walked, you could feel his hips popping/grinding. He shows all of
the classic symptoms…the bunny hop, the side sit, etc.
When the specialist came in, he asked us a series of questions about his behavior.
Did he act like he hurt? Did he favor one leg going up the stairs? Is he slow to stand
up after lying down? No, no, no. He moved Hudson’s hips around, and noted that
he didn’t seem to be in pain. When he left the room to look at the x-rays, we thought
we might have passed. We answered no to all of the questions. He wasn’t in pain.
It sounded good. After he returned, he said this was a “no brainer”. Hudson clearly
needed the surgery. In a good hip, the femoral head would be about 85% covered.
Hudson’s were about 15%. Not good.
After a bit more discussion, the surgeon left us with a technician/assistant/someone
to go over the cost of the procedure. It was a lot. Like $3200 per hip.
When we left, heartbreak set in. We were really going to need to do this. A big,
expensive surgery, several weeks of down time, followed by another big, expensive
surgery, and then even more downtime. The surgeon would be able to do the
surgery the following week. If we didn’t want to do it then, we could wait 3 weeks
for him to be available again, or pick someone else. This sucks. I spent that day
at work crying and trying to figure out what to do with my puppy’s last week of
playtime.
We ended up spending his last week getting things ready for recovery, reading more
online, and playing outside. Hudson’s friend Grady – another goldendoodle puppy –
even came over for one last romp.
Hudson’s first hip surgery was this morning. He had to be at the vet hospital
between 7 and 8 this morning. I had been dreading today since I made the
appointment last week. Dreading days seems to make them show up even sooner
than they usually do. Anyway, today came. I “woke up” after a night of counting
down the hours before I would have to drop him off. We cuddled. He ran outside
one last time. He barked at me for forgetting to feed him. Then I loaded him into the
car. Of course when I put on Hudson’s leash and opened the door to put him in the
car, his jealous brother darted to the car and jumped in, refusing to get out. He hates
being left behind. Eventually, with the correct dog in the backseat, we were on our
way.
Hudson was very excited to be at the hospital. He loves to put his paws up on the
counter to look at the lady typing on the computer. I think this morning his goal was
to knock the stacks of business cards off the desk. He almost succeeded a couple
of times. I, of course, broke down while waiting for the vet to take him back to be
prepped for surgery.
After he had been taken back, I headed to work without any of the makeup I had put
on for work left on my face. At least I had thought ahead enough to skip the mascara.
At about 2, the surgeon finally called to let me know that Hudson was out of surgery,
and would be on morphine for the rest of the night. In the morning, they would test
him to make sure he was ready to go home, and then they would call to set up a time
for him to be picked up.
For tonight, it seems very weird with just one dog. Lincoln would never admit it, but
I am pretty sure he misses his brother right now.
Tomorrow the real recovery begins.
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