Okay. Most important, Blake will probably be okay. But for a while he wasn't, and he is my little trooper buddy.
Saturday the 20th we worked on the house in the morning and in the evening picked up RDC's nephew, mother, and her husband from the airport. We drew pictures, went to the zoo, tried to figure out Encyclopedia Brown mysteries, stayed at Keystone for a few days (where we snow-tubed, skied, took a private ski lesson (me) and a group snowboard lesson (RDC2)), and toured a (non-cyanide) gold mine and panned for gold on the way home Wednesday 24th.
When I brought Blake to camp I told the vet we'd pick him up either Wednesday afternoon or Thursday morning. Nevertheless when RDC2 and I arrived Wednesday at 4:30 to fetch him, they hadn't trimmed his talons and wings yet. The vet techs did so while we waited, and, therefore, did it fast and, evidently, carelessly.
I noticed immediately that Blake stood on only one foot in his cage in the car, but we've occasionally nicked the quick ourselves and he has favored the affected foot for a few minutes and then been fine.
This time he was clearly not fine. He limped, putting barely any weight on his right foot. Especially after being three days at camp, he wanted to do all his usual buddy things, like walking the plank (the foot of the bed), prancing on the couch, and bowing, but he couldn't. He could not grasp with that foot, meaning he could stand on flat surfaces but not perch. Not bearing any weight on it meant that pooping was difficult and could not be done with proper ritual: he could not stretch his whole left side but only the left wing because he could not stand on his right foot, nor his right side but only that wing because he couldn't flex his leg back. Wednesday night, for the first time ever, we slept with him in our bed, on RDC's chest, because standing worked better than perching.
Thursday morning we arrived at the vet well before 8. Blake's doctor saw him after only a short wait and palpated the entire leg, from hip joint through the drumstick and each toe. He felt no bone damage and hypothesized soft tissue injury. He lent us an aquarium for a confined flat surface, recommended a tightly rolled towel as a soft quasi-perch with a greater circumference, and said if Blake hadn't improved by Saturday we should bring him back for x-ray. How anyone restrains a parrot for x-ray is beyond me, and happily it hasn't yet been necessary.
By Saturday, Blake could walk almost normally, and just before I called his doctor he lifted his bad leg over his wing to scratch his head. His appetite never wavered, which was his vet's other question. Today, he repelled up a towel on its hook, slower than usual and with a few false grips but all by himself; also he can bear his whole weight on that leg so as to scratch with his left foot, and to stretch the left side, and he can almost flex the right leg fully backward in the usual manner. He even roosted on only the bad leg, which must be a relief to his overworked left, though only for a few minutes. Tonight we might let him sleep in his cage like a bird instead of in an aquarium like a spotted gecko.
The biggest indicator that he feels better is that he has stopped being so clingy. He wants to trot and prance and go on expotitions, and he has done some singing in his box.
My best and dearest little gecko boy.
Somewhere in there we decided to refinish the kitchen floor. Thursday, besides coddling Blake, we sanded the floor with three different types of sander and three different grades of paper, sweeping and vacuuming and dusting after each step. (The family went to the Museum of Nature and Science.) Today we varnished it, and tonight we will tape resin paper to protect the surface during cabinet installation (tomorrow and maybe Tuesday), counter template-measuring, counter-installation, and appliance installation.
RDC2 turned ten while he was here, and the night before his arrival we pillaged the Tattered Cover. I had titles in mind--Holes, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and Tom Sawyer--good stories, compelling writing, accessible. Considering RDC2's reading level and randomly opening Tom Sawyer, I reluctantly decided against that. It's easier thematically and stylistically than Huck Finn but not yet easy enough. I don't know much about books for the 6- to 9-year-old set, which is realistically RDC2's ability and willingness, so a salesclerk recommended other titles: Enclopedia Brown, The Dragons of Blueland, Lost Treasure of the Emerald Eye, and--this was the biggest hit--The Day My Butt Went Psycho.
I broke out Encyclopedia in the car on the way up, and RDC2 did listen, which pleased me. I doubt I figured out many of the puzzles myself when I was eight, nine, and ten (but I liked rereading them and seeing what I missed). When we finished that book (the first), I tried Roald Dahl, who was somehow less immediately compelling. Also Holes has 50 whole chapters, but after seeing the movie even JHT wants to read it. I hope RDC2 reads at least Butt on his own.