New sleeping arrangements and Lola is not convinced. But two weeks on the floor wrecked my hip. The week's biggest headline: Dr Laskawy removed the stitches, and Lola handled it like a true wiener!

Nearly two weeks in, Lola is restless. The tiny mob boss tried to break out of the crate. She protests. She adjusts. The days now have a rhythm—eat, sleep, demand, repeat—and she made her first move, shaking down her toy for answers.

Lola is healing. It’s slow work. She fights the bladder expressions but keeps to her poop ritual. The only thing she does alone? Eating like a baby hyena. And every day, we learn the kindness of strangers—people we’ve never met, reaching out, offering help, reminding us we’re not alone.

Lola’s recovery continues with small victories. An ill-timed but triumphant poop and a quiet day of rest led to a post-op checkup with Dr Deutschland in Forcki—where he offered no sugarcoating about the future. But Lola? She’s still fearless and reclaiming her world one awkward step at a time.

Lola has made her stance on sleeping alone: absolutely no. So, we've been camping on my bedroom floor for the last three nights. Deep, restorative sleep? Absolutely no. But she is safe, resting, and healing. Her appetite is back with a vengeance, which feels like a small but mighty win. She's on Metamizole and Meloxicam drops for pain relief, and she's been at the vet every day since surgery.