Nugget Eviction Day Is Fast Approaching, But Such Is Dog Life

A week from tomorrow, Joey will have surgery. You know, that surgery—the one that makes every male dog within a five-mile radius instinctively cross his legs. Usually, it’s the dog dad who has hang-ups about getting their boy neutered, but in our family, it’s me. I know it’s just part of dog life, but I had this wildly impractical but emotionally compelling idea that he would meet a cute little Maltese, fall madly in puppy love, and make a litter of adorable babies. From an ethical standpoint, I know it’s wrong. I mean, I’m a child of the Bob Barker era and love to watch classic episodes of The Price Is Right, so “Help control the pet population; have your pet spayed or neutered” is basically tattooed on my conscience. But after losing Benny, I longed to have him live on in some tangible way besides just in Mommy’s Boy, the memoir I wrote about our time together. I couldn’t do that for Benny because he was already fixed when I adopted him, but I could ensure that a part of Joey will live on forever. But alas, I have not randomly crossed paths with a female Maltese who’s looking to hook up with my handsome little Chihuahua mix. And yes, I still refuse to accept the DNA results that say he’s a Chihuahua-Australian shepherd mix. I just don’t see it.

The other reason my anxiety level is climbing like a squirrel on espresso as we approach “Nugget Eviction Day” is that it’s likely Benny passed from a post-op blood clot, even though it had been almost six weeks since his surgery. From what I’ve read, dogs—and humans too—can develop blood clots weeks or even months after surgery, so it’s a valid concern and not just me working toward an advanced degree from Google University. I guess the silver lining in the debacle of Joey putting a rodent poison pellet in his mouth—because apparently puppies wake up each day and ask, “How can I terrify my mom today?”—is that after he finishes a month of Vitamin K, he’ll have a blood test to check his clotting factors a few days before the surgery. If they’re not back to normal, his jewels get another stay of execution.

I know the vet can’t guarantee that the surgery will go perfectly or that Joey will never develop a blood clot or any other post-op complications. If she could, I would ask her to also guarantee that he stops eating suspicious objects, lives to be fifty in human years, and starts contributing financially to the household. But I do know he’s in good hands because she’s the medical director of the practice. Plus, he’s a healthy, active puppy with the energy of a toddler hopped up on birthday cake.

I also know there’s nothing anyone can say that’ll completely set my mind at ease because, apparently, worry is my superpower. But I’d really appreciate you all praying for my little guy—for a smooth surgery, an easy recovery, no post-op complications, and for me not to spiral into full helicopter dog mom mode before they even hand me the cone of shame. And if anyone knows of a female Maltese in heat who’s looking for a happy, sweet, energetic love bug to create a litter of pups with, time is ticking, so drop me a line. No pressure, but Joey’s romantic window is closing faster than I can say, “Bob Barker was right.”