Bollocks be Gone

15 Jun

I actually wrote this post yesterday but it appears to have evaporated into the black hole of blog posts that don’t get ‘published’ – I thought WordPress automatically saved shit as you went!

Anyway, tis post about MAX getting his doggy bollocks cut off – or open or whatever it is when male dogs lose their manhood. Castrated? Spayed? Neutered? Ryu has been bitten twice now, and while I believe both were in extreme circumstances – like the time Granny K collapsed and we had the fire engine with all its sirens and lights, followed in quick succession by the ambulance with all IT’S sirens and lights, followed in even quicker succession by the neighborhood vestlings – with all their bloody sirens and lights and god damn, tis no wonder the dog was in a panic. Hub said if he bit anyone again he was taking him to the mountains somewhere – where he would definitely have survived for ever and quite possibly found his way straight back home, or perhaps he’d meet up with a lone 7-year-old and they’d become mountain friends or something.

We arrived at the scheduled time of 10am on Monday and the vet automatically got me to put him on the examining table so he could put a drip line in for the anaesthetic. Holy shit. MAX wasn’t having a bar of it despite being held rather firmly against my heaving bosom, so the doc gave him a shot to calm him down. We had to wait in the waiting room for ten minutes while it took effect and the dog got droopier and sleepier. He was so desperate to try and beat the drugs that at one point he went from sitting to almost planking like a legend before softly hitting the deck.

Took him back on to the examination table where doc put the drip line in and gave him a couple of shots for pain and antibiotics. He then carried MAX, who was at this stage completely out cold for the count, into the operating room, after which a nurse came out and said I could come back at 4pm to collect him.

So I dossed around meeting a friend for lunch, shopping for Shou’s birthday and wondering if there was something I could buy myself to compensate for impending doom of turning 40 on Friday. We share a fuckin birthday – and no, being in labour and pushing a big head out the saloon doors on my 30th birthday was  not the best fuckin present in the world. It quite obviously has resulted in me sharing a birthday with him (read as organizing kids’ birthday parties and molding jet airplanes out of fondant) every fricken year thereafter. I may also be feeling sorry for self because 40 is not a party celebration in Japan and the chances of my friends organizing something are zero to nil. 40 really just seems to be a year we get encouraged to start going for annual mammograms – which in itself is almost as traumatic as turning 40 as have such big boobs that they fall over side of machine and have to do two squashes for each boob multiplied by up, down and sideways.

But as you can see, I digress, quite spectacularly. This post is about the dog. (note to self – stop being a sour bitch about the whole 40 thing. You have had several birthday packages from NZ, including bubbles, chocolate, jewelry, lotions and potions, vegemite and gravy mixes – all of which I would pay for in their weight in gold. Have fabulous friends both here and everywhere else and tis not Japanese friends’ fault that they don’t know about the 40-equals-huge-party culture we have)

So, back to MAX. I go and pick him up at 4pm and get shown to the back room with the recovery cages, where he is looking extremely sorry for himself, albeit with a recovery plastic cone thing around his neck to stop him from licking his balls. The doc tells me to take it off and put his lead on. Max is not liking me but remembers that I’m the one that feeds him, walks him and gives him all the love so is at odds as to how to behave. Factor in the drugs still working and he was a very bizarre dog.

We drive the hour home and then I open his cage and let him out the back of the car – only we both didn’t think he wouldn’t make the 50cm jump. Oops and ouch. Shakey legs still in play 😦 I get him settled into his house and apologise for getting his balls cut open. Hub comes home after work and has a man-to-man with him, sympathizing about what it must be like to lose all of your manlihood… I even hear him tell the dog it bloody sucks that he can’t get off anymore… SIGH.

MAX isn’t allowed anything to eat the day of the op but the next morning I am to give some breakfast, but if he doesn’t eat it I have to take him BACK to the vets for a drip – hence why the vet left the drip line in his leg and taped with multiple amounts of medical tape. I have been told that if he eats breakfast then I am to, myself, on my own, carry out the medical procedure of untaping the tape and slowly then pulling the drip line out and applying ten seconds of pressure to stop bleeding. The doc must think I am a very capable person – that or he knows the 3 hour round trip is a hassel for something I could ‘probably’ do myself.

So anyway, he scoffs breakfast like I haven’t been feeding him for bloody weeks.

And so I am left with the aforementioned task – only the drugs have completely worn off and MAX doesn’t want me touching his leg.

Well, thank god I got up at 5am cause it took me a good 45 minutes to coax, slash brush, slash coo sweet nothings into his ear whilst trying to find the start of the tape – which the doc had conveniently made on the outside of the leg – only to have the bloody needle on the inside. Jeeze. What a fuckin huuha. I end up having to use the small tape scissors hub keeps in his box of medical shit under the table – to cut the tap and slowly pull it off and around, whilst giving MAX aforementioned massage and telling him everything will be OK.

Then a bloody child wakes up and ninjas downstairs and opens the kitchen door – scares the fuckin bejesus out of me, during which I rip the rest of the tape off – and along with it the needle. Medical procedure finished!! MAX and I are both a bit shocked but hey, it’s over, so I give him some more of the gourmet dog food he had for breakfast, and which I bought out of pure guilt, and tell him to chill for the day. I can’t take him for walks that are more than the short pee and poo drops for three days.

I get the tape cutting scissors inside and sterilised in boiling water and back in hub’s medical box before he wakes up – totally winning I am.

I then have a coffee and think fuck, what am I going to do all day? Taking the dog to the vets for a drip or taking the needle out of his leg were the ONLY things on my not-normal-housewife-shit list for the day and I’ve finished it – by 6am!!

So I get the kids off to school and then drive to the ocean to have another coffee and little cry. The days before my birthday are always hard as obviously birthdays shouldn’t be about us (I know. Pot. Kettle. Black) but about the horendous (or for a fortunate few a beautiful experience while bathing in birthing pool and listening to whale music) task of birthing us!!

Yay mum. Love you.

Sweet dreams, good health and quiet living.

xxxx

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9 Responses to “Bollocks be Gone”

  1. Grace June 15, 2016 at 1:12 pm #

    Blimey – all chores finished by 6am and kids off to school – result! The normal housewife stuff can wait. Hope Max recovers and all heals well.
    PS. Will you please email me your snail mail address, I want to send you something 🙂

  2. Grace June 15, 2016 at 1:13 pm #

    PPS For one awful moment when I read the title of your post I thought you were going to stop blogging!!

    • gaijinwife June 15, 2016 at 2:03 pm #

      LOL, I need the blog, even if I am very shit at updating!
      PS, you will not be sending anything!! Silliness.
      Hub is cooking me dinner and apparently the kids are giving me cleaning and shoulder rub coupons… ….

      • Grace June 16, 2016 at 3:15 pm #

        I insist! Address please!

  3. matchaproblem June 15, 2016 at 6:18 pm #

    I could not stop laughing at your husband commiserating with the dog! Ha! Mine is having a vasectomy soon, so maybe I should put him in touch with Max.

    • gaijinwife June 15, 2016 at 11:00 pm #

      I suggested a vasectomy to hub after child number three but there is no way in hell. It seems Japan has a very low rate of men opting to get their bollocks cut – which is ridiculous as is much simpler and less of a deal for a man to get it sorted than a woman!

      • ds June 16, 2016 at 4:35 am #

        Tell hub that getting his nuts cut will be the best decision he makes. I did it 20 years ago- it took all of 45 minutes, a quick snip and tug, a couple days of mild discomfort. It was far easier than my wife going on the pill (she had a bad reaction to it), or getting any other form of barrier style birth control.

        The benefit? Two decades of quality “nama” international relations! Think about THAT each time you need to reach for a raincoat in the middle of the night!

  4. gaijinwife June 16, 2016 at 5:41 am #

    Thanks ds. I might bring it back up with hub when I start feeling like shagging him again!

  5. Susan (Eastendmom) June 28, 2016 at 3:50 am #

    Am late to the party but I hope you had a happy birthday. 40 is a big milestone for sure, but believe me, you are still young!

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Mrs D Is Going Without

Too much wine in rural Japan

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