Keaton's Discoveries
Getting Spayed
Keaton’s Discoveries is our new column written by three year old rescue boxer, Keaton (after Diane Keaton), who is navigating life now as an indoor dog. Last Thursday, I had to take her to the vet to get spayed. Actually I had to carry her in because she was too scared to walk. She spent the next several days looking at me like she didn’t recognize me and was 11-5 (under the influence). Today she is all backed to normal and ready to talk about the experience…
Apparently I had “a procedure,” which is a very fancy way of saying I went to the vet and woke up with stitches and a RIDICULOUS donut pillow around my head. I’m more of a plaid or polka dots kind of girl. Or a good hat maybe. BUT THIS….Mom is NOT above cramping my signature style for the sake of a good photo…
So there I was still groggy from the anesthesia. Mom’s soft voice explaining what happened. The gist of which is NO more puppies. NO more litters. NO more backyard breeding situation that I didn’t even understand was happening to me until it wasn’t my life anymore. And I’m supposed to feel... what, exactly? Relieved? Sad? I’m going with confused, which is pretty much my default setting anyway, but this feels bigger. This feels like someone drew a line between Old Keaton and New Keaton, and I’m definitely, officially on the New Keaton side now.
Here’s the thing nobody tells you about the backyard life: it’s not really YOUR life. It’s just... existing. Having puppies wasn’t a choice I made…it was just something that happened to me, over and over, until I didn’t know any different. I’d have these babies, and then they’d be gone, and I’d be alone again with the fence and the emptiness. Watching a family through the sliding glass door. No one asked me if I was okay. No one gave me ice cream or let me sleep in a real bed. But now? Now Mom is hovering over me like I’m made of glass, adjusting my DONUT every five minutes, bringing me special soft food. Pete is right here next to me and Mom keeps saying “poor baby” in a voice that makes me feel like maybe I matter. Like maybe this body is MINE now, and what happens to it is for ME, not for someone else’s benefit.
I should be back to playing with the Intern in another week. The stitches will heal. But something feels different. Lighter, maybe? Like I’ve been carrying something I didn’t even know was heavy, and now it’s gone. No more puppies means no more losing puppies. No more being used means just... being loved. BEING KEATON. The spoiled, neurotic, shoe-hoarding Keaton who has a family and a dragon named Pete and a future that belongs only to her. So yeah, I have stitches and a ridiculous donut pillow I’m wearing around my neck. I’m MILKING the sympathy for ALL it’s worth of course…
But I also have freedom. And that feels like the sweetest life of all.
Love you already,
Keaton
The donut cone broke on us so Keaton did get her wish of a more stylish cone.
If you follow us on social media, you may have seen Boxer Soul: A Memory Journal is now available. You can get it on Amazon in paperback or hardcover here. If you want a custom version, featuring your very own boxer hand painted inside the cover, you can order one from my shop (while supplies last).
The book is meant to be a journal for tracking some of the important moments between you and your boxer. What that relationship has meant to you and how it’s changed you for the better. And while you can use it to track multiple boxers, I designed the book for a single boxer. I’ve gotten a lot of messages about that so wanted to try and clear up that confusion.
I’ve decided to keep things free here on Substack for the time being. If you enjoy a post, and want to support me and my ability to continue to stay at home with my son, I’ve added a Buy Me a Coffee option. Zero obligation—I’m just glad you’re here reading.