TPLO Holiday

Tikka’s TPLO Christmas Special: A Holiday Tale of Knees, Chaos, and Character Building

If you ever want to test your stress tolerance, try hosting your parents for Christmas and having your 7‑year‑old, 100‑plus‑pound Kangal–Cane Corso mix blow out her knee on a “nice, normal walk.” Nothing says holiday spirit like a sudden yelp, a limping dog, and the immediate realization that your festive season just took a hard left turn.

Because of course it did.

The Incident (a.k.a. The Christmas Plot Twist)

There we were, strolling along like responsible dog parents, when Tikka let out a sharp yelp that stopped all of us in our tracks. You know that moment when your brain goes, “Nope. Nope nope nope. Not today.” Yeah — that one.

With her being a large breed and already seven, we’re realistic enough to know she doesn’t have unlimited hiking years left. But we weren’t ready to start the “retirement era” just yet. So off to the vet we went, parents in tow, holiday plans derailed, and stress levels rising like Alberta property taxes.

The Diagnosis: TPLO Time

After X‑rays, bloodwork, and a full mechanical inspection, the vet delivered the verdict: a torn cruciate ligament. The fix? TPLO surgery — Tibial Plateau Leveling Osteotomy — which is basically the orthopedic equivalent of a home renovation, but for dog knees.

Quick TPLO 101:

Instead of repairing the ligament itself, the surgeon changes the angle of the tibia so the knee becomes stable without needing the ligament. It’s wild, brilliant, and apparently costs about the same as a used car.

The good news? Tikka’s bloodwork and scans came back perfect. A clean bill of health. Which made the $5,000+ decision a little easier — if you’re going to invest in a knee, invest in one attached to a dog who still has plenty of mountain miles left.

We booked surgery immediately. Because when your dog is your adventure buddy, you don’t wait.

Surgery Day: The Emotional Olympics

Tikka handled the surgery like a champ.

I, on the other hand, spent the entire day sitting on the vet clinic floor like an unpaid emotional support human.

See, Tikka is… selective about new people. “On edge” is the polite term. “Suspicious of everyone except her inner circle” is more accurate. So to avoid any “interactions,” I stayed with her all day while she floated through the universe on whatever magical cocktail the vet gave her.

Imagine a 100‑pound dog, high as a kite, staring at the wall like it’s giving her stock tips. That was our day.

We got her home that evening, and she did incredibly well considering the trauma — physical and emotional — of the whole ordeal.

Us? Not so much. She whined all night, and I learned something important:

I am absolutely not ready to lose nights of sleep caring for a small human.

Sorry Mom and Dad — grandkids will have to wait.

The Recovery: Licks, Limping, and Lessons

We had a few “licking scares” (the surgical site is basically a “do not touch” zone), but overall, Tikka healed like an absolute beast. Within a week she was already weight‑bearing, proving once again that dogs are resilient and humans are… well… soft.

Today she had her staples removed and did shockingly well at the vet — though, to be fair, she was still a little drugged. A girl’s gotta cope.

But Wait… It’s Christmas. Of Course There’s More.

You’d think one major crisis would be enough for the holidays.

But no. The universe said, “Let’s make it a trilogy.”

Disaster #2: The Shower Meltdown

Shortly after getting Tikka home, our shower cartridge sheared off inside the wall, causing the shower to run nonstop. Normally this would be annoying but manageable.

Except our new home didn’t have a shutoff valve behind the shower.

So I had to shut off water to the entire house.

At Christmas.

Cue emergency plumber. Cue emergency bill. Cue me staring into the void.

Disaster #3: The Car Says “Nope”

Just when we thought we were done, my car decided it no longer wanted to start in the frigid Alberta weather.

Because why not.

Off to buy a new battery.

At this point, I was half expecting the fridge to quit or the roof to cave in. But apparently the universe was satisfied with a trilogy.

The Takeaway

Yes, it was stressful. Yes, it was expensive. Yes, it all happened at Christmas, because of course it did.

But everything was fixable. Everything had a solution. And Tikka — our stubborn, anxious, loyal mountain dog — is healing beautifully. She’ll be back on the trails soon enough, probably dragging us up a mountain like nothing ever happened.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll come out of this with a little more patience.

(But still no kids. Not yet. Absolutely not.)