Brock will be 8 weeks removed from amputation tomorrow, and while physically he’s made significant strides, he’s taken as significant steps back in another area. We walk the neighborhood every morning, which has increased his stamina. It’s amazing to see the progress and how in many ways he’s back to being a normal dog. Three legs hasn’t stopped him from dragging me along and he’s certainly not any less annoying in public! Brock still loves to play and has quickly adapted to three legs. Hard wood floors aren’t kind, but they aren’t kind to dogs in general. He’s getting better at stairs and close to getting  himself in the car.

Unfortunately though, he’s lost all control over his bladder with zero explanation as to why. Before the amputation he had regained full control, but immediately lost it following surgery. He pees without awareness nor has any sort of spray control. He’s mostly an excited peeier (no idea if that’s even a word) so playing indoors is a bit risky. Trying to get him outside in the morning is quite the challenge too which is likely going to put him back into diapers at night. I hate the idea of it and would almost rather clean up pee then feel like we’re going backwards.

I didn’t necessarily think amputation would solve all of our problems, but I did think it was the best option at regaining some level of normalcy. It’s hard to celebrate progress when regression is happening simultaneously. It’s hard to accept that there isn’t a cure, there’s not a pill, or some procedure that can help  him. I agonized over amputation, but the pros far out-weighted the cons. It’s kind of brutal to deal with side-effects no one could anticipate. There is no reason to think the cause of his bladder issues are related to surgery, but what else could it be? How does a dog go from letting you know he needs to go outside to not without a reason?

Accepting Brock, and what life is now, hasn’t been the easiest thing to do. It’s not easy when you get your hopes up that life is going to give you a break, and then it doesn’t. It’s hard to remember that I’m lucky he’s even alive and to be grateful I have the opportunity to be annoyed cleaning up pee at 5:30 in the morning.

As hard as all this can be, it’s far better than not having him. He’s so excited when I get home. And yeah sure, he has peed on my new sneakers, and walls, and plants, and himself, and other people, and furniture, his bed, and my bed, and the car, and vet, and just about anywhere else you can think of. And yes, sometimes I just want to scream. Then he looks up with those stupid satellites he calls ears and I forget how much it can suck.