Mary had a Little Lamb

 Bertie follows me everywhere. If I get up from my desk where I'm typing this, although he seems asleep, he will "wake" and follow me - like Mary's little lamb.

The problem at the moment though is that he's supposed to be resting.  In fact he's supposed to be in a cage, resting - except that would make him wretched. So, we leave him free to roam the house.

He's torn his left back leg cruciate ligament.  I knew it was serious as he limped badly towards me last Monday, followed by one of the Jack Russells from up the road who quickly disappeared as soon as he saw me.  Were they playing? Or (more likely) was it a "confrontation"?  Anyway, the result is one torn ligament and strict instructions from the strict young female vet in town, who has no empathy, to keep him in a cage.  

This is a dog who is never still who, when we got him from the rescue centre all those years ago, we were told had jumped out the window of the family who took him the day before and so they (fortunately) brought him back.  And the photo of his mournful face looking through the bars of his cage made me decide he should come home with us and we drove all the way to Cahors to fetch him.  A cage? Not likely!  I look for reassurance that not putting him in a cage is ok and find a "modern view" on the internet that he needs to keep his other three legs strong while the fourth one stays up in the air, so it is better to let him roam (a bit).  

He's not supposed to jump either.  But that's not happening. He's up on the sofa, back down on the ground, up three steps, before we have moved.  I'm hoping that the vet I'm seeing tomorrow - the one who is also an osteopath - will be pleasantly surprised at how well he's doing and not rebuke me.

We've been here before.  Smudge had that same dire limp sixteen Januarys ago - the year we decided to move to France.  He was operated on by the "Super vet" before he was famous and then spent three months (was it really three months?) in a cage. So one of us always had to be with him and that was why, in March, I came to France on my own and found our house.

We got Smudge a television to keep him entertained while caged.  Although he was boisterous he was also resigned and tolerated his imprisonment.  Bertie?  We doubt he will be as phlegmatic.  So there is a hard decision to be made at some point whether, given his age and disposition, we put him through the same process. And for what?  Smudge never again had the same freedom of movement.  What would an op do for Bertie?  Mind you, the alternative isn't great - strapped in a prosthetic, taking painkillers and anti-inflammatories for the rest of his life.

And Bertie right now?  He's not worried. He's happy as anything, hopping round after me, as happy as Mary's little lamb.  Perhaps we should start calling him Larry.