I could very well be the worst puppy mommie on the planet.
Yesterday, after a lethargic afternoon spent in the house with the curtains drawn so we could nap in comfort, I took Scout out to play in the yard. He splashed in the pool, ran laps in the back yard and had himself a grand time. Then I got the brilliant idea to get him to practice jumping.
Border collies are known for being great frisbee catchers. They can get waaay off the ground and catch a frisbee in the air. They also do great in those obstacle courses. Scout is a super fast runner and he can jump, but he hasn’t quite gotten the connection between jumping and catching something mid air.
We have a dog run that spans the back yard (the yard is the size of a postage stamp) and it hangs low enough so that the rope is about at my chin. If I hang the stuffed headless kitty by one arm it hangs down about 6″ lower. From a sitting position, Scout tried to grab the stuffed kitty and missed. Then he stood up and tried a jump from a stationary position but still couldn’t get it.
So we tried the running jump, and after one attempt he was scooping that kitty off the line with ease. After maybe 10 tries like that, and me saying, “Daddy’s going to be so proud that you’re learning to jump!”, I decided to hang the kitty so it was a couple of inches higher.
Scout came running with determination, jumped, missed, and fell on his right hind leg. I heard a huge crack and then yelping that would break your heart. I knew immediately that he’d broken his leg.
I went into super panic mode, which is kind of unusual for me. I’m usually pretty good in the heat of a crisis and then suffer meltdown later.
Thankfully my neighbor heard the yelp and came over. I was hysterical on the phone to the emergency vet and then trying to run out to get the car. But Flow just calmly walked in, picked up the dog, and said, “Follow me. You’re not driving anywhere.” She got her partner Brigitte and they drove me to the vet. Thank God for them.
Long story short Scout has a broken tibia. The vet said if he had to have a fracture it’s the best kind in the best place and his prognosis for a complete recovery is excellent. He’s on total crate rest for at least 10 days and then they’ll re-xray and go from there. His whole back leg is in a huge pink (why pink?!) soft cast (called a Robert Jones cast; they didn’t have a splint to fit him). The word “ouch” is marked on the spot where the break is. He’ll be in that cast for five or six weeks.
He’s crabby today and barely moving. We have him on his dog bed wedged between the couch and the book shelf, because he hates the crate. I put him in there and he peed, which is pretty much the routine for the crate. We have to carry him out to go potty, he can’t walk to find a good spot (maybe I’ll just put him in the crate and use it as his own personal bathroom), and they suggest that if he’ll eat lying down he should.
I feel horrible. He’s missing the last 5 weeks of summer (splashing in his pool, running at camp, swimming in the pond, chasing the neighborhood cats) all because I’m stupid.