We've got a Tripod on our hands.

I feel like I've been running my mouth about this for a long time, but for those that are unfamiliar, Frank had knee surgery on his back left leg on Tuesday. 

Quick back story: When we were living with my parents in 2010, we noticed that Frank had a funny little skip in his step. We went in for a check-up and the vet told us he has loose knee caps. We went to the referred orthopedic animal surgeon and he confirmed that Frank had patellar luxation and needed surgery....and with that surgery came an 8-week recovery process. Shoot me now. 

The 8-week recovery was the reason we kept putting it off. Frank wasn't in pain. He still could run around with his buddies. It didn't seem to bother him. But recently we noticed that he was favoring his right leg and losing muscle mass in his left leg. Both of these things could lead to injury eventually, and we figured it would be better to deal with the issue when we had control over the situation and Frank's comfort level. Also,  considering I work from home and we have the least amount of family responsibilities as possible right now we figured it was now or never.

Monday was a sad day. I did a little photo shoot of Frank in all his hairy-glory since I knew the surgery would probably cause Mr. Frank Sinatra to lose a bit of his mojo. We went for a long walk, there were lots of treats and he had some good sunbathing time on the back porch. 

I dropped him off on Tuesday morning for surgery. He hopped out of the car, and happily trotted away with the vet tech as she took him in the back room. All I kept thinking was he's going to wake up post-surgery wondering what the H went wrong in his life.

We got to pick him on Wednesday afternoon. We sat down with the vet tech for over an hour to get all of our instructions re: pain pills, antibiotics, cartilage injections, cold compresses, rehab exercises, food, potential problems.

Finally they brought Frank to us in the doomed cone-of-shame and we were able to take him home. A.J. drove and I sat in the front seat nervously cradling him in my arms (similar to the way you would carry a pile of firewood) - I guess I should have stepped up the weight on the 10 lb. bicep curls I've been doing since 1999.My arms were burning!

The first night was bad but we're figuring things out. It took four 30-minute bathroom sessions outside where Frank refused to move before I realized he was demanding that the cone come off. It took almost an hour of crying/yelping to know we should put his crate back in the kitchen instead of our bedroom for sleeping - not smart on our part. We also need to hawk-eye his pain medication intake - we've found two peanut-butter laced pills in random places throughout the house - we think he's hiding them under his tongue and spitting them out at some point - channeling the mental patients he sees on TV I guess.

Poor pup is being a good patient overall. He pretty much sleeps all day - you can tell he's bummed out by his situation - we were watching Tori & Dean's STORIbook Wedding yesterday (judge away) and they were planning a pug-themed Jewish wedding. For almost an hour there were pugs in yamakas running around on the TV and Frank didn't budge. PUGS IN YAMAKAS. That's about as bark-worthy as it gets. I just hope he gets his zest for life back in a few weeks. I don't want to have to look into Puppy Prozac.

A few pics of our little patient:

Frank's universe for the next 8 weeks. Those two pillow are where I slept on Thursday a.m.

Our little Picasso. Only one ear seems to stand up at a time.

We've never had better TV reception.

What we're working with.

A.J. providing a good chin rest.

Frank's buddy Blythe came over for a visit and some cuddles.

"I. HATE. THIS. CONE."(Sneak peak into Frank's funniest characteristic - he's spotted like a pink and black cow under his fur. You can see it on the inside of his mouth.)