I’m Kayla, and this is about Moose, my 70-pound lab mix with a big heart and zero chill. He tore his ACL chasing a squirrel. One zoomie, one bad turn, and then he was on three legs. I cried in the car while he tried to wag.
You know what? I thought I’d hate the whole process. I didn’t. But it wasn’t easy either.
What Went Wrong (And How We Knew)
The limp was sudden. He wouldn’t put weight on his back right leg. Our vet did a drawer test and took X-rays. It was a full tear of the CCL (same idea as the ACL in people). If you’re still wrapping your head around what a CCL rupture actually entails, I found this vet-written fact sheet incredibly helpful. For the full play-by-play on how I navigated Moose’s ACL saga—from the first limp to every rehab milestone—you can read the detailed story right here.
The vet said we had choices. Rest, a brace, or surgery. Moose is big and very active. Rest alone wasn’t enough for him. We picked TPLO surgery—something I later researched through a detailed overview of the procedure that broke down every step. It changes the angle of the bone so the knee stays stable. I was scared. But I also wanted my dog to run again.
Money Talk (Because It Matters)
Here’s what we paid in Denver:
- X-rays, exam, bloodwork: $520
- TPLO surgery with a board-certified surgeon (DACVS): $4,800
- Post-op meds (carprofen, gabapentin, trazodone): $93
- Rehab (3 underwater treadmill sessions): $240
- Follow-up X-rays at 8 weeks: $210
We used pet insurance (Healthy Paws). They covered about 80% after the deductible. Without it, we could still manage, but it would have stung a lot. Regular wellness visits have saved us from bigger surprises before—I share my unfiltered thoughts on those checkups in this post.
If you need help estimating costs or locating financial‐assistance programs, the guides at PetCareServices.org are a solid place to start.
Surgery Day: The Longest Day
Drop off was 7:30 a.m. I gave Moose kisses and a frozen Kong. The surgeon called at noon. Surgery went well. I picked him up the next morning with a long list: cone on, keep the bandage dry, short potty breaks only, crate rest, cold compresses 2–3 times a day.
He was woozy and a little whiny. Honestly, so was I.
The First Two Weeks: The Hard Part No One Sugarcoats
The incision was clean, about six inches. He wore the cone 24/7. He tried to lick once. Nope. We went back to the cone. We used baby gates to block stairs. We put rugs on our slick tile—runner rugs everywhere. It looked silly, but it worked.
Moose got a seroma (a fluid pocket) at the knee around day 5. It looked like a squishy bubble. The clinic said it was common from too much movement. We cut his walks back to 2–3 minutes. It went down in three days.
Crate rest was rough. Trazodone helped him nap. Puzzle feeders helped his brain. LickiMat with pumpkin was a hero move. I learned to do calm sniffs near the porch and call that “exercise.”
Weeks 3–6: Little Wins
We started very short walks. Like mailbox short. Then corner short. By week 4, we did the underwater treadmill at rehab. He hated the first minute and then strutted. Warm water, slow pace, even weight on both legs. That was the first time I breathed out. We also explored complementary therapies—I even tested out a local dog chiropractor to see if it could speed things along, and I documented what happened here.
I used a Ruffwear Webmaster harness to help him down the steps for potty breaks. For traction, I tried Dr. Buzby’s ToeGrips and grippy socks. Socks slid. ToeGrips stayed on better. We also added a ramp for the car. It wasn’t pretty, but my back said thank you.
Food and Meds: Keep It Simple
He took carprofen and gabapentin for pain. Trazodone for chill time, mostly at night. I kept a log. When did he pee, when did he pill, when did he nap? It sounds silly, but it saved me from guessing.
We cut his food by a little, since he wasn’t burning calories. He didn’t love that, but hey, less weight is kinder on joints. I added fish oil and a joint chew after the vet said okay.
What I Loved
- Our surgeon explained things in plain words. No fluff. Just clear steps and a plan.
- The TPLO made the knee feel stable fast. He was toe-touching right away.
- Rehab gave me structure. I wasn’t winging it.
- The recheck X-rays made me feel calm. Bone healing looked strong.
What Bugged Me
- The cone. He smashed it into every doorway. We tried an inflatable donut, but he could still reach. Cone stayed.
- Crate rest is hard in a small home. We rearranged the living room like a toddler zone.
- Winter made potty breaks tricky. Ice and TPLO knees don’t mix. I sprinkled pet-safe ice melt and laid old yoga mats outside, which felt a bit extra—still worth it.
- The seroma scare. I thought we messed up. We didn’t. It just happens.
Real-Life Tips I Wish I Knew
- Lay cheap rug runners on any slick floor. Do it before surgery day.
- Keep a small towel by the door to dry the incision area if it gets damp.
- Use a harness with a handle. The Ruffwear one saved us on stairs.
- Prep enrichment. Kongs, LickiMat, snuffle mat. Rotate them so they feel new.
- Ask for a clear week-by-week walk plan. Tape it to your fridge.
- If your dog is anxious, talk with the vet about meds before day one.
- Put your couch cushions on end. It removes the landing spot. They won’t jump if there’s nowhere to land.
By the way, caretakers need mental breaks just as much as their dogs need physical ones. If you’re in California’s Central Valley and craving an adults-only night out after a long day of icing knees and scheduling meds, check out Madera Swingers—their site lists upcoming meet-ups, spells out house-party etiquette, and offers membership details so you can unwind responsibly and connect with like-minded people.
A Quick Word on Other Options
The vet also talked about a lateral suture surgery. It works well for small dogs. Moose is big, so TPLO made more sense. If your dog is under 30 pounds, ask about it. Ask about TTA too. Different knees, different plans. No shame in asking ten questions. I did.
Speaking of sensitive body parts and the courage it sometimes takes to “show” vulnerability—whether it’s your dog wearing a goofy cone or a human baring far more than feelings—you might appreciate the raw, first-person reflection (in French) found here: je montre mon minou. The piece offers an unfiltered look at body confidence and personal choice, which can be surprisingly empowering food for thought when you’re navigating any situation that makes you feel exposed.
The “Other Knee” Thing
Our surgeon warned me: many dogs tear the other knee within a year. That felt like a punch. We added slow strength work after we got the all clear—sit-to-stand, figure eights, little uphill walks, plus weight control. So far, six months out, his left knee is fine. I knock on wood anyway.
Six Months Later: Was It Worth It?
Moose runs again. Not wild like before, but happy-fast. We still avoid fetch on hard turns. We do more nose work, which he loves. I don’t think TPLO made him “bionic.” But it gave us our walks back. And his goofy trot.
If I had to rate the whole journey—surgery, care, results—I’d say 4.5 out of 5. It’s pricey. It’s a grind. But it works.
Final Little Things That Helped
- A cheap baby monitor so I could hear him at night
- A heating pad for me, because sitting on the floor is no joke
- A calendar on the fridge with pill times
- A waterproof throw for the bed, since he sneaked up once (okay, twice)
Let me end with this: you’re going to feel tired. You’ll wonder