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The crazy thing is, it’s not his stitches he’s obsessed with. Instead, he’s taken to licking the spot on his arm (foreleg? whatever) where he was shaved for the IV insertion. So I’ve had to wrap it with a pad and some gauze in order to prevent him from making it any worse.

So he started licking the bandage, which moves it out of place (and makes the bandage all wet). So I sprayed it with bitter apple. Which apparently just makes the bandage zesty and delicious.

“Just correct him when he does it,” you say? I did that for a while, and it seemed to be very effective…he’s fine when I’m watching him like a hawk. But the sneaky little bugger will be clever about it just to spite me. “OH, look at this wonderful toy I’m playing with here on the floor. I think I’ll just position it right next to…my arm while I…nonchalantly…sneakinareallyquickSLURRRRP!”

“Fine,” I say. “I’m getting The Cone.”

Lomax has returned, and all is well. So well, in fact, that when I got him home last night, he wanted to run up the three flights of stairs to my apartment.

Does the thought of him doing that, freshly neutered and full of stitches, cause you to cringe, too, or is it just me?

Of course I didn’t let him do it — kept him on a leash and encouraged him to walk slowly despite his obvious gladness to be home. The first thing he did was drink about a gallon of water. The second thing he did was greet my roommate with his usual gusto.

The poor little man was exhausted, either from the previous day’s surgery or from his pre-surgery romps at the kennel with littermate/neutermate Liam. Even the application of a cold — very cold, mind you — compress to his nether regions was surprisingly easy. He lay on his back and fell asleep where I was cradling him on the living room floor. He didn’t even get up when the commercial came on for Disney’s sled dog movie Eight Below…and that’s his favorite thing on TV right now.

The stitches look clean and there’s not much swelling. He hasn’t yet made much of an attempt to bother the incision site, which is great, but I think the challenge will come when the soreness is gone and the hair starts growing back and making him itch.

I let him sleep wherever he wanted in my room last night, with the caveat that he’d have to wear The Dreaded Cone, because I can’t very well supervise him when I’m asleep. He didn’t protest when I put it on him, and he lay down next to my bed and snoozed before my head even hit my pillow.

When I woke up this morning, I saw him standing. That’s it, just standing. Not sniffing. Not looking at me, or really at anything. I chuckled, and it was at that moment he noticed I was conscious, and so began the typical HEY-IT’S-MORNING-AND-WE-HAVEN’T-PLAYED-FOR-SEVERAL-HOURS-I-ALMOST-FORGOT-WHAT-YOU-LOOKED-LIKE-I’M-HUNGRY-LET’S-GO-SOMEWHERE-I-LOVE-YOU-WHAT-ARE-WE-DOING-TODAY wiggling.

So I figure he’s fine.

Lomax is up at the GDA kennels for his…operation, which will be sometime today. (I’ve noticed that for some reason, I can’t just seem to refer to the…neutering…without pausing momentarily with some elipses. It all just seems too much to come right out and say it as though it’s a perfectly normal part of his average day. Hmm. I’ll try it again. He’s being…um…you know…fixed. Nope, can’t do it without the dots.)

Anyway, we had quite a lovely time the last few days, as a “last hurrah” before the…you know. Spent the weekend at my cousin CJ’s house, which was great fun for Lomax because they have stairs he could run up and down with his favorite toys, and a yard full of delicious cat smells — though the cats were not nearly as pleased about his visit.

My aunt’s bathroom is beautiful and luxurious, like that of a hotel, and Lomax looked not just at home there, but also as though he had been part of the design scheme:

On Friday, CJ and I took Lomax to the Armand Hammer Museum in Westwood to see the first half of the Masters of American Comics exhibit, which he enjoyed very much despite his opinion that the works should not have been hung so high on the gallery walls. There were several school classes at the museum that day, and we had to politely deny many small children’s requests to pet him (we even got an “Awww, MAN!” from one disappointed young lad) because Lomax was being very good, and I didn’t want to break his streak. I’ve found that one small child petting a dog quickly becomes twelve small children petting a dog, and Lomax’s attention span for obedience dissolves into the excitement of lots of little hands to lick and faces in which to snort. He was quite a sport the rest of the day as well, at In-N-Out Burger for lunch, Diddy Riese for cookies, and an early evening showing of Hoodwinked (which was surprisingly clever and enjoyable).

The next day, I crated Lomax for a few hours while CJ and I headed to the Museum of Contemporary Art for the second half of the comics exhibit, but we had lots of play and snuggle time that evening back at the house.

Sunday morning was very exciting! We attended a graduation up at GDA with all of our puppy friends and colleagues…the best part was that Lomax got to spend a little time with Joanna, his first puppy raiser. The first words out of her mouth when she saw him were, “He’s huge!” Lomax responded with his usual wiggly enthusiasm, lots of kisses, and my favorite little whiny-grunts that are clearly an expression of love. He sat with Joanna and her friend Christina during the ceremony, being the adorable and well-behaved little gentleman he is. Afterward, Lomax and brother Liam checked into the kennels for a few days of raucous bachelor playtime before the…procedure.

So, now we wait, praying that the vet does everything perfectly and that the world famous “L Brothers” will heal quickly and not obsess on licking their stitches. I’ll get my little man back tomorrow afternoon, take him home and make sure his recuperation is filled with cuddling and treats.

“He looks like a dingo.”

“What?”

“When he’s on his back like that. Looks like a dingo.”

The roomie was right. He does. So when Lomax gets in a wiggly mood and rolls onto his back in the middle of the living room floor, snorting and trying desperately to touch the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail, we call it the Dingo Dance. Sometimes there’s a toy involved — the Nylabone ring, the delicious rubber Orbee bone — and sometimes he just goes solo.

I ran across an article today, written by Jonah Goldberg just after the events of September 11, about what drives a working dog. None of you puppy raisers or guide dog handlers will be surprised in the slightest. Here’s an excerpt:

The dog is the only animal that volunteers for duty. If we want other animals — horses, oxen, mules, falcons, bears, or parrots — to come to our aid, we must either force them or bribe them.

Here’s the rest of the article. Bring Kleenex.

Apparently, the school is only going to neuter the males. Still no word on what exactly the trait is that the breeding manager doesn’t want passed down, but we may never find out. Not a big deal, as far as I’m concerned, as long as everyone’s healthy.

The best thing about this news is that not only could one of Lomax’s littermate sisters still be named a breeder, one of his older sisters (same parents, previous litter) is already a breeder and won’t have to be spayed. We’re also thrilled that one of his other female relatives — a sweet little peanut of a black Lab named Mika, whose “wiggle hinge” is even more flexible than Lomax’s — is also safe in her breeder status.

I had a chance to talk to the trainer who left me a message, and she seems optimistic that these guys are all still terrific dogs whose ability to guide won’t be affected in the slightest. It was very encouraging! We talked a bit about Lomax’s tap-dancing — the poor little man just can’t sit still when there’s someone he loves nearby, and he tries SO HARD — and she seems to think that it may be mostly hormonal. It will be good to see how things change when the testosterone has had a chance to work its way out of his system. I’m hoping that it won’t change his personality too much…but I definitely could stand for him to mellow out a little.

So, Tuesday’s the big day! I’ll probably go to graduation at the school on Sunday morning, then drop him off at the kennels.

Lomax would like to wish everyone a happy Chinese new year…apparently, it is the year of the dog.

I just found out they’re going to neuter Lomax. According to a trainer in the GDA puppy department, they “found something in the lines” that made them decide to fix ’em. It sounded like she was speaking in the plural, so while she didn’t specifically say the whole litter, if there’s something in the lines they want to discontinue, it makes sense. She said “they’d still make great guides,” so it’s apparently nothing too serious, but I haven’t had a chance to speak with her directly because I didn’t get her message in time. I won’t know until Monday, which kills me!

After all my lamenting, my soliloquies on the difficulty of reining in a four-legged teenage boy in spring-loaded furry tap shoes, I am feeling a little sad. My roomie is feeling the same way.

It’s not just that there will be no little Lomaxes (Lomices?), or that he has individually been rejected. I think what makes me sad is the possibility that there will be no breeder from the whole litter. I didn’t seriously think they’d make him a breeder (in my opinion, he’s a little nuttier — pardon the pun and sorry, Lomax — than some of his sibs), but I was looking forward to hearing a happy announcement that Liam or one of his other littermates had been chosen to pass on their fine qualities. They really are terrific dogs, these guys.

But the…ahem, procedure…really will make the rest of our time together easier, on both of us, so I’m focusing on that.

The kennel stay was a success. GDA kennel techs report that Lomax and Liam were “very good boys” with “NO signs of stress.” Not shocking in the slightest, either of those things. Our happy bachelor brothers did, however, take every available opportunity to…attempt to woo the ladies, shall we say? And yet, still no word on their breeder evaluation schedule (Liam is ALSO still intact, as is most of their litter).

I had the in-house vet check Lomax for an ear infection, as he’d been a little “flappy” for a day or two before, and sure enough, he came home with meds for his left ear. But he’s been a sport about that so far, sucker for an ear rub that he is.

The two of them must have played constantly for the whole three days, because I got an e-mail from Liam’s puppy raisers, saying that he had effectively put himself to bed at seven o’clock. Lomax was so tired last night that I actually debated whether or not to take him to obedience class. Thinking it might be nice for a change to work with him when he’s less wiggly, however, Slave Driver Jenny dragged the poor little man to class and experienced the phenomenon of having to encourage him to keep up during an average-pace heel.

I felt so spoiled! Free vet care, a few days of romping for him and total freedom for me, and they bathed him and trimmed his toenails to boot. There’s nothing like getting back a clean, sleepy dog.