Back to surgery

So Pooh was fine after his day with the vet. No more vomitting and ready to go home. I pick him up at 5:15, chat with Dr. Jim (Dr. Tom's dad) for a bit, dog hops in the car and we head out. Get to the grocery store to pick stuff up for the cookout the PTA is having tomorrow. As I turn around to say "Be a good dog. ON GUARD!" which I always do when exiting the vehicle, I see that Pooh King has ripped every layer of stitches in the groin incision apart. I could have put my hand straight into him. Holy shit! I called the emergency vet number, pulled out of the parking lot, and drove back to the vet's office. His house is next door to the clinic, so I just sat there and waited for him to finish his shower (according to his wife, who came to see if I needed help because I'm sitting in the car crying in the parking lot after hours ). I assisted him with lifting Pooh onto the surgery table, he anesthetized him, and I was the official assistant during the re-suturing process. I probably will get my dog back at 8:30 tomorrow morning, if animal welfare hasn't been called because I don't have a ramp for my senior citizen sutured pet.

I'm going to go park my ass in the beer garden now. I need my supergirl underpants to get over this one.

And, by the way, the ramp should be delivered on Tuesday.

In this picture you can't even see the incision that he ripped apart.