This won’t be an every day thing, but for the days in this journey where it matters – perhaps the first two weeks or until a sense of normalcy for all of us returns, this allows me to speak aloud.

The things about my Oliver is that he’s always been the coolest pup in any room.I had a Husky who passed away in June (yeah, it’s been that kind of a summer) named Jackson. He was such a sweet lover boy, but he was honestly dumb as a rock. I used to say that Jack and Ollie were Pinky and The Brain. My dumb but lovable Husky and my obstinate, always up to something Hound.

Point is, this is a weird situation because right now, everything has changed for him. He’s injured and tired. He’s sore and has been for awhile and then one day, he’s missing something he’s had for almost nine years and it’s all got to be a little confusing and disorientating for him right now.

But remember how I said he’s obstinate, well, I think that’s a theme today.

So, day three:

Wins: Got up several times to go get water. Made it across the room on multiple occasions. Had his first incision check and got a thumbs up on it. Did his first post surgery poop.

Some observations:

-His pain management seems to be going well enough, I suppose. Still waiting a replacement for Tramadol, but in the meanwhile, I cut it out. He seems to be doing ok, but I’d like to ensure I have proper meds available to me in case he is hurting enough to actually tell me.

-Today was the bandage check day. My vet, who was amazing with the surgery and talking to me and really reassuring me, probably could have done post-op instructions better. But it was late and I had a paper with what seemed like really important ones. But…this was an important one (at least for me) and I’m kind of glad I listened to the anxious voice in my head. See, the implication was that I could remove his bandages myself, but this morning when I was changing out his tee (I noticed he peed the bottom of it), I saw just the edge of the bandage and it had dried blood on it and my thought was…I don’t wanna be the one pulling this away from the wound. So I called over and they said come in. I did and they checked the incision and then re-bandaged him. And told me they would like me to come in every two days for between the next 4-6 days to re-bandage unless it was apparent the incision no longer needs to be covered. There’s some small seepage but nothing major – it’s more just ensuring that everything stays clean and protected. Considering the massive fight I had with Oliver to keep his biopsy incision clean, I’m pretty much okay with this. Regardless, short story is: on O+2, the incision is looking exactly as it’s supposed to so win.

-He ate his breakfast this morning and did his business and again, bathroom watching is weird.

-Halfway through the morning, Ollie decided he was sick of being locked in my room and hopped over to the door. I expected he wanted to go pee, but once out of the room, before I could stop him, he hopped up on the couch and rather inelegantly tossed himself down. He was entirely unimpressed with me telling him he’s not supposed to be doing that. Then, he went to sleep.

-When he woke up, it was Kong time. All my lads love them. But it’s a bit more of a headache for Ollie now. Ah, but challenges are meant to be conquered. We rigged first a candle and then a pillow system to backstop the Kong so he could work on it without getting frustrated by no grip.

-When we went to the vet, suddenly he was hopping all over the place. It’s pretty amazing.

-At home, he’s a bit slower and more cautious. He’s struggling the most to stand up out of a down position and then to get going again after he’s stopped himself from hopping. He’s seeming to be teaching himself crouches and ways of sitting down which are more comfortable for him.

Overall, I’m thrilled with his O+2 day progress. Most of it doesn’t seem like much – he’s hopping a few feet across a room. But it’s big for me and every time I see him conquer another step, I have this warm kind of flush about it. How resilient and obstinate and determined my little boy.

I know there will be harder days; there are in all things worth doing. That said, I am thankful that 48 hours into recovery, I have tremendous hope instead of despair and grief. Onwards.