Poor Polly

I’ll spare you from the long (and messy) version of the story, but early in the year we noticed that Polly started having “accidents” in the house.  If you know Polly, you know that she is a very, very naughty beast dog who is always into everything she’s not supposed to be messing with and is always sneaking around getting into trouble.  So naturally, we thought she was doing it on purpose because we weren’t paying enough attention to her.  Well it started getting worse, so bad that I went and got her doggie diapers at the store. One Saturday night, it’s like she just turned into a different dog and I ended up taking her to the emergency vet first thing Sunday morning.
After several hours, a few tears and a lot of “I’m sorry’s” to poor pitiful Polly, it was concluded that she had bladder stones and would need surgery to have them removed.  Naturally, I asked to see the xRay and – WHOAH – it looked like the poor dog was getting ready to lay eggs.
Needless to say, she had the surgery, got a lot of good pain meds, and was back into full swing before we could even get all the trashcans back up on the counters.
 
As much as we complain about this little monster, she was my first baby and I couldn’t imagine life without her.(Ok, maybe John and I do imagine what it would be like… not having to call before we come home so she doesn’t wake up the kids, having a bed all to ourselves, having normal trashcans on the floor, being able to leave your sandwich on the table while you grab a drink without her getting UP ON THE TABLE to scarf if down in .2 seconds flat… Yes folks, maybe we do dream about it a little – and John reminds me several times a week that it was my decision and my decision alone to get her – but what would we do with all that extra time on our hands?!)