Sometimes ideas that sound perfectly fine when tossed around in hypothetical conversations turn out to be intensely unnerving as real possibilities. Today the canine orthopedic specialist's receptionist said calmly over the phone, as we were arranging the date of Maya's initial consultation (for slightly less than two weeks from now), "...And if the best option is surgery, you can simply leave her here after the appointment, and the surgery will be done the next day."

There was a moment when I literally could not answer. She said, "Or you could take her back home that day and drive her in the next morning for her surgery?" I said, "Yes, that does sound better, thank you."

But what I was thinking was: What? Surgery??? In less than two weeks????

While I was talking on the phone, Maya was out with Patrick, loping happily around the valley. When they got back, I grabbed her up for a hug and told Patrick about the appointment, and what the receptionist had said. He said, "Oh. Oh." He hugged Maya, too. We both looked at her: happy, lively and squiggling to escape from our arms to go investigate her food bowl. Surgery?

Well, maybe. She has a bad limp which will get worse as she gets older; it might turn out to be much better for her to have one nasty trauma now than to have steadily increasing pain throughout the rest of her life. Until we talk to the specialist, we won't know for sure. (And thank God for pet insurance - finances don't even enter into this question.)

But still...eep.

Needless to say, Maya got some really serious treats today.