( Your daily Spike under the cut )
Yesterday he tried to pick up a stick off the ground so he could bounce at me with it. The cone stopped him, which annoyed him no end, but it makes me so happy that he's trying.
He's eating competently and voraciously now; he lost a bit of weight during the cancer shenanigans and he's very keen to put it back on. I am still handfeeding him; he hasn't bitten off any of my fingers with his still perfectly serviceable back teeth yet but I won't be TOO massively surprised
when he does.
What the hell, I've got ten. In fact, he CAN eat out of a bowl but not very easily, and not without mashing a lot of dogfood into his stitches, so I'd rather handfeed for the time being.
He doesn't (yet) quite have his old energy levels back. I don't know how much of that's because of the pain meds (he's still on two Tramadol a day) and how much is because of the shock to his system and his body needing those resources for healing, but I won't be too sorry if he stays this way for a while. He's not listless or anything; there's plenty of bouncing and joy and tail wagging and he met up with his friend Billy today for some dancing and playbowing. But he isn't back to psycho hosebeast mode yet either; he's quite happy to chill out on the couch with one eye on the cat in between walks. This is probably just as well.