|Dueling blog: D-L's view can be found at: http://theexpatwriter.blogspot.fr/2018/04/castration.html|
Whatever they're called, Sherlock's are gone.
Our male puppy is now a eunuch.
Part of the contract with the rescue centre where we got him in December is that we would have him neutered. Donna-Lane didn't want to do it to him. When the rescue vet told her it was obligatoire, her instinct was to grab the dog and run. Would they come after us? After all, they know where we live.
Certainly there was no point in breeding him. He's a melange, a mix, a mutt. One of a kind. And they certainly don't need more dogs at the rescue centre; there are far too many who cannot find a home and just end up being put to sleep.
He was pretty groggy when we picked him up after the operation. His expression said, "What the hell did you do to me?"
He's been paying us back by peeing in the house ... rather frequently.
Going into the operation, I had two concerns. One is that he will chew his stitches. So we bought one of those plastic cones to go around his head. Except it's too big and he pulls it off rather easily. My other worry was that something would go wrong with the operation and he'd never wake up from the anesthetic. That's not something you voice in advance, but it is a possibility whenever a living thing goes under the surgeon's knife.
After being home for a day, he has been steadily gaining energy and appetite. I'm hoping the castration will dampen his aggression/enthusiasm a bit, especially when he encounters other dogs or children.
Next week we expect to start sessions with a trainer who goes by the name "Psychodog." Despite the name, I don't expect Sherlock to go nuts. Those are gone for good.