Poor Holly’s been through the mill lately. A couple of days last week she seemed rather preoccupied with her bottom. Since dogs always seem to have a fascination with their rear ends, I didn’t really think much of it. However, very suddenly on Thursday, a very large, red and swollen absess type lump appeared on her bottom and this sent us straight down to the vets as soon as we could get an appointment. The vet took one look at it and told me to bring her in first thing in the morning, so that they could operate on her.

Now, from day 1 since Holly came to stay with me, she has been quite a special needs doggy. Her main issues were always her weight and her underactive thyroid, but getting her speyed was always going to be a priority some point down the line. However, the vet always refused to carry out this op until her weight came down as giving her the anaesthetic would be far too dangerous while she was the size she was. Even having lost 22kg and come down to 40kg, she is still too heavy and any op would be too high risk. Her target weight was set at 38kg.

So, to suddenly be faced with having to get her operated on, I was thrown into turmoil. What was the right decision for her? Was I handing her a death sentence by agreeing to let the vets operate on her? She was utterly dependant on me to make the right decision for her. It was a dreadful time. All sorts of scenarios (most of them bad!) played out in my head as I tried to make the right decision. However, I had to trust that the vets knew exactly what they were doing and that an operation was in Holly’s best interests.

I felt like a total muppet when I dropped her off at the vets in the morning as I promptly burst into tears! Then coming back into the house and she wasn’t there, was just horrendous. Oh, how we do come attached to our furry friends! I don’t know how I managed to get through the first lesson of that day, but thankfully the vet phoned me as soon as the operation was over. He said Her Ladyship was lying at his feet feeling a bit sorry for herself, but everything had gone really well and she was a ‘hardy lass’! Thankfully I got her home around 3pm and never left her side for a good while after that. Mind you, as soon as she got home, she plodded into the kitchen looking for food, so I took that as a good sign!

She bounced back incredibly quickly and I’m happy to say, is now back to her cheeky self and suitably milking all the extra care and attention for what it’s worth. Apart from having a bald bottom and looking a bit like a pin cushion from the injections and blood tests, she is almost back to her full glory.

I on the other hand, feel permanently traumatised and hope I don’t have to go through that again for a long time! I have told the vet that when she goes in to be spayed, they’ll have to give the drugs to me rather than her, and have a steady supply of valium to hand! I’ve never been so grateful just to get to the end of the week and still have my beautiful Holly.