I'm going to be so sore tomorrow.
Really large and heavy dogs shouldn't dislocate their hips. And if they do, they should not rip the whole surrounding tissue to shreds. Or at least there should be some kind of hoist involved during the surgery to fix it. Or, at the very least, the surgeon should not be that much taller than me, the poor person who spent a fun few hours lifting the leg and keeping the joint together.
The rest of the day was the usual chaos. Some of the procedures were pretty weird though.
Anyway. It's Friday. I don't have to go to work at all on the weekend (assuming nothing extremely urgent comes up). And I'm not yet sore, just knackered.
Life is good - even though the sky is a apocalyptic red for the second night now