We’re back in San Pancho, about an hour north of Puerto Vallarta, to pet-sit for the summer. We’ve been coming here just about every year since 2010 to care for Kahlua, Horatio, Valentino and Pico (to read previous posts, click here, here and here).
The only thing constant is change, as the saying goes. The sleepy little town, for better or worse, has been discovered. Shops, restaurants, and hotels are sprouting up like weeds. There are even plans for a sprawling, six-story beachfront resort. The beach we once claimed for ourselves, so empty it was in summers, now hops year-round.
While the town gallops ahead, the pets have slowed. Los gatos are seven years older; even perennial baby Valentino spends more time snoozing in the sun than stalking in the yard. Wild cat Pico has mellowed and can’t even summon the energy to hiss; he’s instead become a bit of a cuddle bug. I guess he figures, “If these humans haven’t murdered me after seven years, it’s a safe bet they won’t now.” Deaf, monkey-tailed Horatio still settles behind the fan to cool off, and his trophy wife Trixie actually comes out and spends time in the same room with us (when she’s not slumbering behind the TV, which is roughly 12 hours a day).
The biggest change, however, has come to Kahlua, Bill and Barb’s beloved golden doodle. After two serious leg breaks, followed by a cancer diagnosis, they faced the difficult decision to amputate. Kahlua is now a tripawd.
People, as is their nature, tend to react with horror and anguish when faced with such a life-altering step. Animals, as is their nature, tend to react with a shrug and a “what’s the big deal, I have three others”. That’s been Kahlua’s response, for the most part. Younger, smaller amputees bounce back quickly and resume their normal lives with slight adjustments (some are up and running a day after surgery!). K.’s only problem is that she’s 12 years old and a little too fond of snack time, so she’s packing too many pounds.
Nearly a month after her surgery, she’s still figuring out her balance, especially while doing her business. She has a sling and harness that we use to keep her upright but the hope is, with a little practice and a trimmer figure, one day she won’t need it.
Amputation, while life-saving, causes extra wear and tear on the remaining joints, often resulting in arthritis (or exacerbating it). So it will be a while before we can take K. to her happiest place on earth, the beach. Not that she hasn’t tried to steer us there already during bathroom breaks. We’re just taking it poco a poco, going a little farther each time, and turning back when she starts to tire. We’ve promised her, though, before we leave in two months’ time, she will feel that soft sand between her 12 toes!