Wasn't it just a week ago that I was posting about Steve's surgery? That's what I thought. Happen to notice TWO vet-related changes to my baby dog??? It's kind of like "Where's Waldo?"
Here's the short version of the story. Flashback to Tuesday, January 5th. Traffic was kind to me and I got home at a decent time. I rarely arrive home before Todd, so the dogs were extra excited to see me as the first human to greet them. Steve & Pippin immediately ran outside to wrestle, show off for me, and grab some toys for play time.
That's when I noticed it. Brown spots. Dried blood. ALL OVER the floor. Throughout the kitchen, the den, and everywhere in between. On Steve's back and ear. Crap. I left Steve outside with a tire toy in his mouth and called the vet.
"Yes, it's Steve's mom . . . Again . . . Blood. Probably his incision . . . he's too excited to let me look at it right now. Right down the street . . . okay . . . be there in a minute." I rush to crate Pippin and Steve runs to the back door. Todd had just pulled into the garage. Pointing to the dog and say, "Blood. Going to vet. Be home soon."
We get to the vet and, while Steve is excited to be out & about, he's not so thrilled to be back at the vet's office again. He becomes a little anxious and jumps up on me to give me lots of licks. He paces a bit, but I know he's okay because his tail is still going. That's when it notice it again. Blood. At first it was a few drops. I grab a paper towel from the ladies behind the counter and place it to Steve's chest, trying to slow down the bleeding before it got bad. I pull the towel away and nothing. There is no blood from his chest. Lovely. From where is my dog bleeding NOW?
Wherever it's coming from, it is now EVERYWHERE. It looked as if someone took a squirt bottle, filled it with my dog's blood, set it to mist spray, and let loose. There was a fine mist of blood dots all over the floor, on the walls, on the windows, on the table, on the books, on the portable heater, on my dog, on my hands, on my glasses, on my clothes, and even in my wedding ring.
Steve doesn't seem bothered, but I try to keep him from spewing blood on the other dog and two other humans waiting near us. Steve's quickly taken back to see Dr. S. I spend the next twenty minutes helping wipe down everything around and watch the girls mop the floor. The iron-filled smell of blood is overwhelming.
Dr. S comes out later and tells me Stevie has a 1.5" laceration on his tail. He'll need to be sedated (can you say $$$) and have minor surgery to shave the tail, inspect it, clean it up, suture it, and wrap it up. An hour and another chunk of change later, Steve is ready to go.
He comes out to the freshly cleaned waiting room with most of his tail wrapped in a bandage. He's loopy from the sedation. He's embarrassed by his tail. So we go home.
His recovery looks good. We were worried that he might lose part of his tail, but the laceration seems to be high enough on the tail that it may heal well. About $1000 for two surgeries in one week has forced the change of Steve's nickname from "Damn Dog" to "Money Pit." Poor dog and poor parents' wallets.
Is that a bandaged tail, or are you just happy to see me? 
Our tree, which I never topped. My grandmother, Mary, gave me an angel treetopper years ago, but she wouldn't stay on this year. Instead she watched over us from another place in the room.
My sister, Cindy, and her family (Richie, Kilee and Whitney)
Steve's not too sure.
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