The Survival Manual for after your Pet’s Spay or Neuter Surgery

(Disclaimer: actually a tongue-in-cheek trip down memory lane – more “I feel your pain,” less “do this to really survive”)

So you’re headed home from the vet with your groggy and adorable friend in the back seat. You’re silently sending up praise and hallelujahs that Fido or Princess sailed right through the surgery without a glitch.

Keep the Man Upstairs on the line – you’re going to have some requests very soon.

Here’s some truth that won’t give you lots of hope: I’m not quite sure how to survive, despite the brazen title of this article.

However, I have survived, albeit barely and a tad crazier than I was before their surgeries. Based on my experience, I offer this warning…umm, oops, advice.

Memory Lane & Puppies

Here’s my story, summarized:

We took in a Treeing Walker coonhound that was pregnant. My husband said, “We aren’t keeping the puppies,” yada, yada, and other nonsense and so forth.

(I declare sometimes it’s like the man doesn’t even know me at all.)

I did try. Really, y’all. I steeled myself for the day I saw their cute little faces and came to terms with them living somewhere else.

But I’m weak.

I did find homes for two of them with people I knew, and I considered that above and beyond what could be expected of me to endure.

Sweet Bella, a mother from the streets and hard knocks of life

When the puppies were weaned, we had Bella (the mom) spayed. She was a trooper. Having lived a life of hardship and uncertainty before coming to our house, she hardly noticed surgery.

Boys will be boys: this is a problem

Then her 3 boys (that I had wept over and begged to keep) started squabbling.

And by squabbling, I mean they hated each other.

There were battles. There was blood drawn. I was distraught.

• 

• 

• 

(I know this was supposed to be a summary, but if you know anything about me, you might as well know right off the bat that I’m an epic failure when it comes to summarizing.)

So it turns out maybe I’m the problem

Back to the story: to be fair to the dogs, I was dealing with several stressors and even though I was smiling and chipper, my family seems to think that the dogs ‘read’ my anxiety since they were close to me.

Great.

Instead of shouldering all the blame, I decided to go ahead and line up an appointment for their neuters, starting with the two boys who hated each other the most at that moment. Because it’s a guy thing, right? And maybe a little cut and clip would settle things down.

Survival Manual advice #1: Spay or neuter your pets one at a time, and have a quiet, separate place for that pet to recover.

If they dislike each other, don’t even entertain the thought of “getting it over with all at once.” For a second. A millisecond. Trust me on this.

Successful Surgery – Now to Recovery

So fast forward through 2 blessedly uneventful surgeries: now I have two puppies in cones, miserable yet full of energy.

Patient #1: Rummy

Rummy wouldn’t stop beating his head on the floor, the walls, the chairs, anything to get the dreaded cone off.

That was fun. And even though I went over the post-op instructions with a fine-tooth comb, absolutely nowhere did I see what to do when your dog was beating his head against solid objects to dislodge the cone.

Patient #2: Tango

Tango, naturally nervous and sensitive, hated the cone, Rummy, the crate, and possibly his life in general at this point.

Misery loves company, and I was beginning to relate.

I know I should have gotten some pictures of the chaos, because in hindsight it’s hilarious. At the time, not so much.

Putting them in their crates seemed to fuel their energy levels, not to mention their decibel levels.

I considered beating my own head against something.

The Escape (mine)

I was only a few hours in when I secured them both in (separate) crates, and begged my husband to take me out to dinner.

And he did.

Survival Manual Advice #2: Make dinner plans for anywhere but home.

We didn’t stay gone long, because I’m the worrier, remember? However, the little bit of time away was the breather I needed to come back and deal with the situation. And it actually settled them down, too.

(They were probably reading my anxiety again. Don’t tell my family I admitted that.)

I’ve been reminiscing over these ‘good ole days’ since Marnier our cat has her spay surgery coming up. It’s been ages since I’ve had a cat so I can’t remember what it was like to deal with a cat after a spay surgery. Or maybe it’s selective memory because it was traumatic. I sure hope not.

If you don’t remember anything else, remember this:

Survival Manual Advice #3: Adopt from a shelter or rescue where your furry friend will have already gone through his or her surgery and recovery.

It’s a win-win: you give a homeless animal a home, and you never have to suffer the anxiety of lying awake at night, fearful that somehow your beloved pet got that cone off and is currently dismantling his stitches. And you ask yourself: do you check? How many times? Because each time you do, you risk waking them up, which leads to you lying awake, wondering if they’re trying to get that cone off….

Yes, adopt, my friends, just adopt.

Survival Manual Advice #4: Breathe. Deeply and often.

Because apparently your pet senses your stress levels.

If you must endure post-op situations, cones of shame, and scenarios not covered in the vet’s take-home instructions, run a bubble bath, go out and count some stars, put in some ear phones, just relax.

This, too, shall pass

You will survive. That’s the good news.

And you’ll laugh one day.

Not today, but one day.

You might also like:

There’s a picture of me with all of Bella’s puppies on my “About Me” page that wasn’t staged – they would “puppy pile” when tired. 🙂

If you’re a pet owner, you know sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying. When we took in a skinny, skittish stray cat our battle with cat hair began. (P.S. I’m losing.)

It does seem like the cat took over (don’t tell the dogs), but there’s more than litter box tips here: there’s also way too much information in this article about my life as the owner (servant? slave?) of various pets over the years.