Early this afternoon I went and took the non-suspecting dog to the vet and had him chemically castrated. I thought that would shock you but I was at my wits end because he was badly molesting the cat for the umpteenth time and the cat didn't have enough sense to just make a run for it. It was not a pretty scene.
Of course, I am the top dog in this household and Tyke in turn wants to assert himself by lording it over Gandhi who is so sweet that she wouldn't hurt a fly. As a matter of fact, she comes back for more and hardly ever beats a safe retreat. I don't know why she is so non-assertive.
Before Tyke got his injection, he was put on the scale and I'm happy to report that he'd lost a whole kilo but the vet warned me that any kind of castration has a tendency to make a dog gain weight. He may not lose any more weight and I have to make darn sure that he doesn't gain any, so I have been duly warned.
To show he didn't care one bit about food, Tyke ignored the treat that the vet offered him and only wanted to be petted by him. I think after the trauma of that very big injection, he wanted to make sure that the vet still liked him. Almost every time Tyke goes to see him, he gets a shot.
Chemical castration is supposed to last for 6 months but the vet told me that it can in reality work for as long as a year. I will notice in Tyke's behavior when it starts to wear off. Because Tyke is not an aggressive dog, we should have the benefits of the shot for a long time. I should start noticing it work within a week. I'm sure Gandhi will be very happy but I will be too.
Tyke has done nothing but sleep all afternoon and I'm sure that is the effect of his big adventure. It must have been emotionally tough on him,. and you know, sleeping is the most restorative thing any creature can do. He'd probably like to pull the wool over his eyes and forget the whole thing ever happened.
It sure set me back financially and it's already been an expensive month. I really am robbing Peter to pay Paul. but I'm an optimist and know that things will always work out somehow. Or my name isn't Polly-Anna.