layla trilogy Tale – Why this Karma?
~ Part I ~
karma (noun) : Hinduism, Buddhism . action, seen as bringing upon oneself inevitable results, good or bad, either in this life or in a reincarnation: in Hinduism one of the means of reaching Brahman
My brother mentioned once my boxer Layla has odd karma for a dog.
Indeed she does. Why this Karma? I often ask myself this question.
Why is it my girl has been through so much in her 7 years 2 months of life despite the fact she undoubtedly has a loving, doting family, and safe home. She is THE most playful, loving, loyal companion, as well as very best protector of all near and dear to her. Especially her Mama.
So I really do not understand it.
Unlike Bosco, she doesn’t live life dangerously. She is quite obedient, and doesn’t even attempt to stray from home because she does not want to leave us. Yet, of my two Boxer buddies she is the one, the only one to have been afflicted by illnesses, injury, and required multiple surgeries. Even her delicate belly cannot handle a single table scrap, but only the most specially prepared boiled chicken and pasta. This, I will gladly prepare for her any time she needs me to. Nothing is too good for my girl.
Meanwhile Bosco is built like a brick shit house. He has eaten more species than I can identify, and like Whodini, has escaped more times than I can count.
Which bring me back to my poor Layla girl…
Unfortunately, just four days after her first surgery it appeared to me her incisions were not healing as they should, and some even seemed to be separating. Off to Emergency Room we went. Turns out, as I suspected, the internal sutures used during her first surgery did not adhere properly. Therefore, she needed an immediate revision to debris the open areas, and reseal them with external stitches.
Layla however, had other plans for last Sunday morning which did not include a second surgery of this very delicate area.
First she tried scaring off the expert staff there with her signature stare-down. This, I advised is a warning. Do not approach, as she may growl next. Eh, the hulking 6’6″ Vet Tech was not concerned saying quote, “I’ve had cats make me re-read the Bible front to back.”
Really? Well after she was passed off, Miss. Obedient decided she was not going to “Walk this Way,” but rather opted to spin like a top doing 360 degree turns in an attempt to break free.
I could tell she would be a real handful.
Two hours later they confirmed, yes in fact she had been a quite the challenge. They sedated her immediately to settle her down, and used a second medication to put her into a “sleep like” state for the surgery, but had decided against general anesthesia as she’d had it only days prior. She was also given morphine for pain.
Morphine? Oh I knew all about this opioid. It was NOT my friend. I had been connected to a morphine pump following my own surgery, and I was none too pleased. It made me short of breath, legless, and retch something fierce. I had to throw a total tantrum in order for them to unhook me from it, convincing my Dr. I was able to swallow pain medication by mouth.
Layla though was not complaining. She wasn’t doing anything really. Except looking high as a kite. Oh and pooping. While lying down. A side effect from the other drug they told me. Hmmm. Well this was going to be a neat trick. How to keep her clean in an area which is extremely sensitive from surgery and highly prone to infection. Luckily, the medication wore off after a few hours.
So I thought.
48 hours later I left her alone for the first very time. I was gone only long enough to leave my son at camp, and grab something quickly at the store. Just camp 2 minutes away and two yogurts for me is all it took to find she’d dropped off a “gift” in the Living Room. I had to laugh as she hadn’t done anything like that since she was a pup (and back then I had crate trained her). Even when Layla is ill she will go to the door to be let out.
I asked her,”What’s this?” I chuckled again as she looked at it in surprise as if she were wondering, Who me? I did that?
She knows this question as I often ask Bosco (probably too often), “What’s this?,” whenever he has done something (ie.chew the heel of my shoe). So yes it was funny. Kind of.
By the time my son and his buddy came back after camp I really wasn’t phased by much anymore. They snagged both yogurts I had just bought for myself, heading upstairs to his room to eat them. I made absolutely no attempt to stop them.
Eat where you want. Shit where you want. It’s all good.