Kimberly Brown
My best friend and walking companion is out of commission for a while, with a knee injury.
These kinds of injuries happen frequently to athletes, and they can also happen to regular people – and 16-pound terriers.
I first noticed my girl, Pippi, wasn’t jumping on the couch as easily as she always has in the past. There has never been a “no dogs on the furniture” rule in my house, and Pippi (and my four cats) take full advantage of that. Pippi generally snoozes on the couch of whatever room of the house I happen to be in. She’s never gotten on the bed, though. My late cat, a bossy tortoiseshell, wouldn’t allow it.
When I noticed Pippi struggling, since she’ll be 11 years old next month, I thought maybe she was getting a touch of arthritis.
Then, a couple of weeks later, she ripped through the woods chasing one of the ever-elusive squirrels that live in our yard.
Pippi has chased squirrels since she was a puppy, and somehow, it’s never occurred to her that when they disappear, she should look up.
Instead, she sniffs around the base of the tree, certain that the squirrel has to be RIGHT THERE. It never is, which is a good thing, because she probably would have no idea what to do with one if she caught it.
When she came back to the front door after her unsuccessful squirrel chase, she was limping, holding her back left leg up. I thought maybe she had turned an ankle, or whatever it is dogs have at the base of their feet, or maybe had a burr stuck in her paw pad. I didn’t find any burrs, and when she was still limping significantly the next day, off to the vet we went.
After a thorough exam, the vet gave her verdict – an injured knee ligament.
Surgery may be an option, but for now, I’m trying to keep her quiet and less active. The vet approved very short walks and nothing more.
I managed to just keep her in for several days. But today was one of those beautiful Northeast Georgia gems. Warm but not hot. Orange, red and brown leaves blowing from the trees. Gorgeous blue sky. Unable to resist Pippi’s pleading brown eyes any longer, I put the leash on her and took her down to the stop sign near our house, about a 10-minute walk.
Then I did the unthinkable. I brought Pippi home, put her back in the house, and continued my walk without her. She sat at the door – disappointed, sad and confused – as I walked away.
Time has a way of marching forward, whether we want it to or not. It won’t stand still for people or dogs. I know I won’t have Pippi with me forever, but for now, my hope is she’ll get better, with surgery or without, then spend many more years chasing squirrels and being my walking companion.
Kimberly Brown is a staff writer for The Northeast Georgian. Reach her at kbrown@TheNortheastGeorgian.com.