Sure. Tell that to the dog. Yesterday she decided recuperation and invalidism aren't much fun. Now she's trying to climb the furniture, me, and the walls. The living room looks like a war zone. Couch and chairs are piled with coffee tables, cushions, and books to keep her from trying to jump up and pull her stitches. Chewy sticks, treats and toys are scattered everywhere—anything to keep her occupied and relatively calm.
The first week will be the worst. After that she'll start to heal enough to up the activity level but it's three weeks until she can be bathed—the stitches are internal ones that dissolve on their own. I have her booked in at the groomers to get her summer cut early in June. That seems like forever.
I feel like a mother with a newborn baby just home from the hospital. I don't want to leave her alone, I'm worried she'll hurt herself, and I watch her every move. I'm starting to get cabin fever. At least with a newborn, the stores and malls will let you take your baby shopping with you. But, however much I'm inconvenienced, I should remember she's the one who's hurting and later, itching, as she heals We both can't wait till June.