On warm days, I’m even more tired, panting my way home.  On cold ones, I do a little better.

It’s the elbow dysplasia that’s got me down. That and some arthritis in my knee joint where I was injured when I was hit by the car.

It doesn’t stop me from loving life and loving running. It doesn’t stop me from eagerly arising with Dad in the morning, when he comes to get me to run, and taking off from the gate. It doesn’t affect my attitude.

It does, however, slow me down.  And I take an extra long nap after my run.

In July I celebrated my 12th birthday.  But the thrill is definitely not gone.

The condo said that when we drive up to the guard house, if the guard sees a dog inside the car, I will not be allowed any further. I will not be allowed into the condo.

Why don’t condos like dogs?  We are part of the family.  And my parents are sad about this.  Many people love dogs, and many people love me. But not everybody does.

Rosie’s snout is narrower than mine, so she had an easy time getting the treat out of the cup.

I needed a little help.

In the beginning, I’m afraid. I hear sounds of  “whack” popping all around me, again and again, then silence, then this “whack” “pop” sound again, and the sounds frighten me.  I am nervous here.

I see little balls everywhere, but they are not the kinds of balls that I want to catch and play with.

My parents turn to me and say “Hi Joey” and little by little I get more comfortable.  Then people come by and pet me. Then they leave. Then other people come by and pet me.   Then they leave.   I”m happy when the come toward me and distressed when they walk away. But soon other people come toward me.  Many of them stop in front of me and give me a pet and want to talk about me.

Eventually I become more comfortable and start to like this place!

My parents have me sit by a fence and they go and leave me alone for a while.  I’m on my lead and I’d rather be free. But this is where I am now and I accept that. I’m with my parents and I’m a good dog. So I sit where I’m told to sit.

I never think about the alternative. I never think about staying home alone. I like where I am, with my parents, with sounds of pop and whack all around me!

She drives slowly and opens the window for fresh air. You don’t feel so good. You don’t open your mouth. Not that day or the next.

You get home and home feels good and she gets you into your nice soft bed. Ah. You fall asleep. For a long time.

You won’t open your mouth that night.

The next morning your Dad takes you running. It’s hot outside and you are getting hot and the way you cool yourself off is to open your mouth and let your tongue hang out. But you won’t open your mouth. Not that morning, not that afternoon. Except when your mom gets you some food to eat. Then you do. But all the rest of the day, no way.  Maybe tomorrow you will.

This is dental surgery for dogs.  My parents and doctor all agree this was part of my being hit by the car many months ago, 16 months ago, and what started out as a little crack in my tooth has now worsened so that my tooth had to be extracted.

I don’t know how my parents knew it. I didn’t tell them. I never complained. I was eating less but my parents assumed it was because of the summer heat just tiring me out.

But one day my Dad noticed that my breath didn’t smell so good and that I needed a dental cleaning. When my Mom brought me into the hospital for my blood work, I had to get on that scale again.  70 pounds!  “Joey’s lost too much weight” my doctor said.  The next thing I knew is that my parents were giving me all sorts of nice foods to eat, adding rice to my breakfast, rice to my dinner, sometimes little pieces of meat and turkey.

Now I think they’ve figured out that the reason I wasn’t eating was because it hurt to eat.

During my dental cleaning, my doctor Tamara noticed my tooth was really badly cracked. And so she took care of it.

Now back home, my parents say, “Joey, want a treat?” and I go over to her, obediently sit, and then she puts those little things down my throat again – “medicine” my parents call it.  Then they say, “Joey, want a treat?” and I get some nice soft bread.  And I’ve been getting a lot of food again, with rice and chicken gravy.

Eating is suddenly fun again.  Maybe I’ll even open my mouth and give my parents some kisses some time soon. But not now.

]]> http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/4480-dental-surgery-for-dogs-tooth-extraction/feed/ 1 http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/4454-dogs-have-grandparents-too/ http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/4454-dogs-have-grandparents-too/#comments Tue, 29 Jun 2010 22:22:41 +0000 Joey http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/?p=4454 [...]]]> A dog has a really unique family and set of relatives: He has his canine family and he has his human family. And then he has his adoptive human family.

It was a long long time ago when I had my first human family. So long ago I really don’t recall.

But last week when I met Gramps, when he stepped out of his car in front of our home and came through the gate and into our backyard, I knew right away he and I had a connection. A very strong connection and bond. I don’t “remember” him but at the same time he knew just how to play with me, just how to talk to me, and I knew right away we were on the same side of the fence!  It’s like he had known me forever!

And he had!

And then Debra came over to me when I was wagging my tail at the fence looking at everybody who was on the other side of the fence, talking, being happy.  When I was a newborn puppy, Debra was my big human sister. Then I grew and grew.  I grew so big that when Debra saw me last week, after ten years, she hardly recognized little “Big Ears”, as she had named me when I was born.  Of course I don’t remember growing, but there we were again.

And see my first Grandma?  She and Gramps owned my mother, Cocoa. They owned her, and loved her, and took care of her when she was healthy and when she was sick. She and Gramps and Debra were also there with me right when I was born.   Before I became known to Debra as “Big Ears” and long before I became known as “Joey”.  (And maybe they will write about when I was born!)

I love my whole entire first family.

You can see this in our “first family” portrait.

And once again I have to say that I am a lucky dog!

]]> http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/4454-dogs-have-grandparents-too/feed/ 9 http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/4420-young-at-heart-the-boston-marathon/ http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/4420-young-at-heart-the-boston-marathon/#comments Fri, 30 Apr 2010 17:29:04 +0000 Joey http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/?p=4420 [...]]]>
Here I am, a runner, sitting beneath a statue to one of the great runners of the Boston Marathon, John A. Kelly. And I would say I’m a pretty long-distance runner, for a dog of my age. After all, I’m going to be eleven years old and I’m back to running with my Dad, anything from 2.3 miles (such as when my mom runs with us, or when she runs me alone) or 4 or even 5 miles. The truth is the more often I run, the better off I am.

This statue shows John Kelly as a young runner and John Kelly as an older runner. That would be just like me. I too am “Young at Heart”. Some people still say I act like a puppy. In fact, my mom calls me a puppy all the time.

The Boston Marathon runs right outside our home. This year my mom walked me with her along the route. I was a little too excited for her. I pulled and pulled on the lead, and it was very difficult for her to control me. There were many dogs with their owners and I, of course, wanted to say hello to each one. I wanted to greet each dog to my neighborhood and welcome him and welcome her to the ‘hood.

My mom’s response was “Joey, come” and that was the end of my Boston Marathon experience. At least for this year.

My mom likes to remember that it was just one year ago that I was hit by the car, along this very road.

Who would have thought! Certainly not I! Although I have always had faith, and I have always been young at heart.

Mickey came into my life one day when I was pretty comfortable in my home.  I love everybody, and the more creatures we have in our home, the happier I am, so I was anxious to become friends with Mickey. I had never made friends with a cat before, and now I had one in my own home!  All the time!

Except that Mickey didn’t see it the same way I saw it.

Here is a photo of Mickey, as he looked one day when I went up to him, wagging my tail behind me, to play with him. You can see that he wasn’t too happy to have me around.

My Dad used to say, “Joey, watch out. Mickey doesn’t want to play with you.”  He said, “Joey, wise up or you’re going to get an unforgettable lesson.”

I’m a friendly dog. I want to be everybody’s friend; I even wanted to be Mickey’s.  But as a cat and dog combination, we had a relationship that drove our parents nuts.  Mickey would lie down in my bed. He knew it was my bed and yet once he discovered it, he made a big point of laying in it.

I, in return, used to go upstairs, to where his food was, when nobody was looking, and eat his food and drink his water.  My parents were aware that this was personal, since I would have water and food in my own bowls.

And so our game played out, for years.

The last few months of Mickey’s life, he learned to accept me. He would walk up to me and allow me to lick and kiss him. We were learning to act like brothers.

Then one morning, I lost my friend Mickey.

Mickey wasn’t around our home anymore and everybody was sad.

Here is a video of me, taken three months after I was hit by the car, shortly after the doctor took off my splint and bandages. It was July and warm and sunny during the daytime.  I was allowed to take longer walks but I was definitely not allowed to run.

In the middle of the night, my Dad will my Dad say “Joey’s dreaming.” Then he’ll say, “Joey.” Then pause. “Joey.” Or my Mom will do this, too. And then I’ll wake up, and look straight at them, then go right back to sleep.

Am I dreaming?   If you think I am dreaming, what am I dreaming about?

Please comment!

When my mom came home that day, she was screaming, “Joey! You’re right on the front page! You’re a COVER DOG!”  Not shouting angry, shouting excited.  And shoving this newspaper into my face.  Okay.  Does that make me famous? Does that mean my parents will feed me more chicken from the table when they sit down to eat? Does that mean that I will go on more and longer walks and runs?  Does that mean that they will allow me to sleep on their bed at night?

Today when I went to my veterinarian’s for some reason, they said, “Joey, you’re famous!”  Did I care?  One of the technicians went over to a jar of treats and got me one. Now that’s what I cared about! That and all the love that was there!

About my photo, most people say I looked “regal”.  People have said to my mom, “It’s amazing he could stand still for so long while his photo was taken.”  My mom calls me “statuesque” though I don’t understand what that means.

The newspaper story that my friend Dan wrote was very good. It was all about my blog, and about my book, the book that my mom wants to find a publisher for. When my mom tells people about my book, they say “My son would love reading that book.”  And so my mom keeps on trying to find a publisher.

My book is like my blog: I write it to help other people who have dogs, and to help other dogs, of course. I write it to help children who have dogs to understand their dogs. I know what it’s like to be a dog, and I know what it’s like to be injured. To be a dog is fun! To be injured is not.

There I am!  My photo was right next to the New York Times, right on top of Barron’s, and right under the Boston Herald.

How would you describe my closeup coverdog photo?

In June and July, I continued to get mail and receive comments to my blog posts, and I continued to make friends with dog lovers and dog owners.

In June, I made friends with people all the way in Russia.

I really have no idea where that is, or how far away it is, but my mom was saying, “Wow. Russia” when the comment came in. My Russian friend, Alexander, commented on how good medical care for dogs is here in the United States, and that medical care for dogs here in the United States is often better than medical care for people in Russia. I think the idea is that we in the U.S. are supposed to appreciate the blessings of a good life. And be sensitive about people who cannot get good medical care.  I know that I do, and I also appreciate good friends like Alexander. I also think there must be many dogs in Russia because many dogs come from there, such as Siberian Huskies, and more.

Around this time, I got my new bootie, and life was really better for me, so people who commented on my blog learned about that and were happy about that.

People also wrote about their own experiences with dogs, and with losing their dogs, as their dogs passed away.

One of my new friends, Jeanne, wrote about how sad she was when her dog died. She wrote that even years later, she still felt very sad about no longer having her dog. My new friend also wrote about how sad her daughter was feeling because her hamster died recently and how difficult it was for her daughter to say “good bye”. That reminded me of my post…about Wanda and Miri and their hamster.

I also got a comment from Ellen, about health insurance and, although this is not my department, my comment did mention pet insurance, which I don’t have.

But one thing is sure: People and dogs both have bones, and bones can break (Ellen’s wrist had broken), and nobody thinks that is much fun. (But while people don’t think that is much fun, I never saw a person with that big collar around his neck, such as I had to wear!)

In some comments, people expressed the idea that just because I had my full splint taken off, that I could go swimming, and take showers, and do all sorts of things. I could not.

So in my responses, I commented that I was still bandaged, that I still had to have a lot of patience. I was very limited in movement, I could not take a shower, and certainly could not go swimming, and still hadn’t gotten my ankle and toes x-rayed to see how well it was healing, or had healed.

Another topic that came out of the comments was my readers’ confusion between a splint and a cast.

In my responses, I explained this difference between a splint and a cast. But to repeat, the splint is more flexible than a cast. It allows my leg to flex more than a cast would. I had a splint.

Finally, I just received nice comments from people saying hello, wishing me a speedy recovery, and telling me how much they liked my story and how glad they were that I was healing.  And these comments are just fine with me!

Many children are afraid of us dogs.  Many children love us dogs! And many children are afraid of us dogs but want to love us. They want to get close to us and not get close to us.

Waiting alone, for my mom, outside a school

*

Sometimes my mom and I take a walk to the school.  She leaves me alone outside the building while she goes inside.   For a while, I’m alone but I know she’ll come get me soon.

*

Then the children come by!

here come some children!

*

These are good times when the children come by.  They love to pet me.  They know my name. My mom says that when they see her and they don’t see me, they ask, “Where’s Joey?”  They ask “Why isn’t Joey with you?”

Then they tell her to say “Hello” to me, and she comes home and says “Ariel says hello!” or names one of the other children who have become my friends.

*

One time I escaped from our back yard and walked over to another school where children were playing outside. That was a great day for me. When my mom showed up, all the children lined up to pet me. One by one they pet me on the top of my head, and sometimes on my back. I don’t know if my mom was so happy about it, but I was.

Maybe you would like to tell a little about why children love us dogs!  Please comment below!

*****

On a special day,  I got to have my photo taken with a group of firefighters from our town, Newton. Also in the photo were Senator John Kerry and our mayor-elect, Setti Warren.  This was a special photo because special and very nice people were in it and because I was in the photo, too! I was being useful by helping my candidate win. You can see me to the right, trying to make friends with one of the firefighters, who is petting me.

When many people think of firefighters, they think of Dalmatians.  So we are back to the topic of dogs.  Dalmatians and I are dogs.  Also, Dalmatians and Retrievers (like I am) are strong and can run for long distances.

Dalmatians were very useful to firefighters a long time ago, before firefighters drove those large trucks with engines that they drive now. In fact, our town of Newton was the first town to use motorized firetrucks in our country!  Before firefighters drove trucks with engines, they drove trucks that were pulled by horses.  Teams of horses.

So to get back to the topic of dogs:  Who protected the horses? Why, Dalmatians, of course!

What did Dalmatians protect the horses from?  From robbers and thieves who wanted to steal the horses and people’s belongings during the nighttime when the firemen were sleeping. They also protected the horses from wild dogs who would roam the streets and nip at the horses’ feet.

Why Dalmatians?  Dalmatians and horses make very good friends.  Dalmatians are strong (like me) and can run for long distances, maybe more than 30 miles, at a speed up to 30 mph! Dalmatians wanted to protect the horses.  The Dalmatians calmed the horses down when the horses got agitated, such as when there was a fire.  People also liked the way Dalmatians looked, with their spots!

So firefighters have loved dogs for a long time because dogs have been their friends and have been very useful in people’s lives.  I am happy to know that in our town we have wonderful firefighters and that now they are my friends!

***
I have a lot of nice photographs of Dalmatians and horse-drawn firetrucks!  Look below!

You can see the company Dalmatian to the right, just under the wagon wheel.

Here you will see a video of horse-drawn firetrucks from a long time ago, long before you or I were born.

Finally, here is video and a photo of Blaze, the Dalmatian! He’s owned by Dave Humpert from the California State Firefighters’ Association! I think that Blaze and I would make really good friends!

Mr. Mitch Mendler, who took this photo of Blaze, gave my mom permission to use it.

I don’t know exactly what a dog park or how they get to be there, but my mom has been taking me to this Cold Spring Dog Park place lately, and I love it. I’m not so sure my mom is happy there, she’s always yelling “Joey, come” or “Joey, sit” or “Joey, stay” but she must be since she keeps going back.

There are some rules at the dog park.

• One rule at the dog park is that I have to listen to my parents.

• The next rule at the dog park is that I have to play nicely.

• The next rule is that when before we arrive at the dog park or before we leave the dog park, I have to be on-lead.

Lots of times when I’m with another dog, my mom says, “Joey, be nice” or “Joey, place nicely.” She breaks that word into pieces – NICE – LEE.  I look at her and leave the dog I was playing with.  I can go back to that dog later.

Sometimes the people don’t obey the rules.  I know what happens to me when I disobey the rules, but I’m not sure what happens to the people when they disobey.

*****

If you have any comments, please add them now!

By now I’ve written many posts and have met many new friends…I’ve met Cheyenne, Luca, and Bruno, dogs who have been injured and all survived – and are getting better and better and feeling better and better. Even their moms are feeling better!

If you have not read my story, please do so! You can begin at my first post of Chapter 1 and move on through.  Use the “Categories” to guide you.  You can also use the “Index” to guide you.

I’ve learned a lot since I was hit by the car and I think I’m a new dog!

Just yesterday my mom took me in a very long car ride – to Connecticut. This was the second time I was ever in Connecticut.  The first, though I don’t remember it – was more than ten years ago – when I was born – and my dad brought me from Connecticut to my new home in Boston!  So this was my second long trip of my whole life.  It was fun and in Connecticut my mom took me to a park and we walked around, ankle deep in all the fallen leaves. Autumn is a great month for dogs because the colors are just right for us. When the leaves fall, we dogs can smell the squirrels who have hopped in the trees from branch to branch, and who have left their memories behind!

In my future posts, I’m going to write about all the wonderful things that we dogs can do to really make the most out of life!

I hope you’ll join me in my future posts about living a dog’s life to the fullest!

**************

*****

Here is my time line for my rehabilitation from my injury.  In general, my parents and my doctors made these decisions, not I.  If my parents took me swimming, I went swimming. If they took me running, we went running. They decided how far, how fast, and how long I was to be out and walking, running, or swimming.  I guess in the end they made the right decisions, because I’m doing really well now. I’m not even limping!

Day 1: I was hit by the car and brought to the emergency room of the animal medical center.  When I went home six days later, I had a full-splint on my leg.

During this time, I may only go outside to pee and poop and then must go back home. I must walk slowly.

Week 5, Day 3: I have surgery on my broken ankle, though I’m asleep and don’t know what’s going on.   When I go home, I have a half-splint on my leg.

During this time, I may only go outside to pee and poop. I walk slowly.

Week 12, Day 3: I go back to the animal medical center for a bandage change. It has been 7 weeks since my surgery. Although he was going to only take x-rays at this time, my doctor removes my splint!

Since I’m allowed to go upstairs and downstairs, my parents let me go up and down a lot so that my muscles begin to strengthen.  Of course, since I’m on my lead, I can’t go up and down too much, but I do it as often as they will allow me, and as many times as they will allow me. When I am home alone, my parents keep me in the living room and close the little door gate. They don’t want me jumping up on anything.

Week 13:  Day 3: I go back to the animal medical center for x-rays on my broken ankle. It has been 8 weeks since my surgery. My doctor removes my bandages!

During this time, my leg muscles continue to start working again.I’m still walking with a limp.  When I am outside and I start to hop on three legs, my parents slow me down so that I use all four legs.

My walks start out short. Then they get longer. Then they get longer and longer. Then they get longer and longer and faster and faster.  My mom is walking longer and longer and faster and faster, too. This is good for me.

Week 16: It has been 11 weeks since my surgery. I’m running and playing in the back yard. My parents are throwing the ball and I’m chasing it and bringing it back. However, we don’t play this game for too long.

Week 17: It has been 12 weeks since my surgery. I’m walking well enough and I’m strong enough to take a walk around the block with my sister and littermate, Rosie. I am still walking with a limp.

My parents take me to the lake for the first time!  My mom walks me around the edge of the lake but I do some swimming, too. I go to the lake a few times this week and I am swimming, usually in place, with my mom holding me up by my harness.  My legs are getting stronger and stronger and I’m feeling better and better.

Week 19:  It has been 14 weeks since my surgery. Dad takes me running with him. We run for one block!

Week 20: It has been 15 weeks since my surgery. Dad takes me running with him. We run for five minutes!  Then we walk.  The next day we don’t run and the next day we run again for 5 minutes again.  I’m feeling stronger.  Jane takes me on long walks and she doesn’t’ let me stop and rest until we get to our destination, or until we get home.

Week 22: It has been 17 weeks since my surgery. Dad and I run for ten minutes!  The next day we don’t run and the next day we run again for 10 minutes again.  Then the next day we don’t and the next day we do.  I’m feeling stronger and my parents say that they don’t see me limp when I run. They say “Other than the bald spot on his back, you wouldn’t know he was hit by a car.”

Week 25: It has been 20 weeks (5 months) since my surgery. Dad and I run for twenty minutes!  This is our “short” run.  I’m feeling good.  I’m not limping.  We do this run now a few times a week, one day yes one day no one day yes one day no.  During the afternoons, Jane takes me on long walks and she even tries to run for a block or two with me, but I’m much faster than she is and I’m always ahead of her looking back at her. They still say say “Other than the bald spot on his back, you wouldn’t know he was hit by a car.”

Week 25: It has been 20 weeks (5 months) since my surgery.

My dad says “Twenty minutes may be it for him.”   I’m going to do my best to run longer and longer and further and further.

My doctor says that I’m “a healthy dog”.  I love my doctor!

Week 26: It has been 21 weeks (5 months, 1 week) since my surgery.

I love my life! I go to new places and see new things. I meet new people and new dogs. I make many new friends, both people and dogs.  Everybody is surprised at how well I do.  When I’m off-lead, I obey my mom when she says “come”. At night I don’t limp.

But I do sleep well!

*****

I love every day – but I love days when I can discover the world and make new friends with dogs I’ve never met. I love days when I can be with my parents. And I love days when I can run and run and run and run and run. Today was such a day. I discovered the world. I made new friends with dogs I’d never met. My parents were there with me. And I ran and ran and ran and ran and ran.

This is the first "dog park" I’ve ever been to.  The morning goes like this: At first, I’m on-lead and walking with Dad and Jane in this beautiful wooded area; Dad is holding the lead and of course I’m trying to lead the way and pull him toward where I smell other dogs, and Dad is holding me back from pulling too hard.  I am bursting with excitement.  We walk and walk.  The trail under our feet is soft and flooded with fallen leaves.

Then we turn down a little path and encounter a wide open field.  Dad, Mom and I go toward this field.  I’m going to explode with happiness – but this lead restrains me. We get closer.  We are almost there! But first, Dad stops me in front of this sign.  I don’t really want to stop; I want to continue on and play with the other dogs who are running around the field.  But my Dad is firm and I know he means business.  I obey my Dad.   I obey him because I want him to be happy with me. I want him to be happy with me because I love him.  So it all works out.

It is hard for me to control myself but somehow I manage to. I’ve learned at least a little bit of self-control in my ten years.

Then my parents take off the lead. This is a special moment. wagging my tail; I know this is getting better by the moment.  Then my parents say, "Joey, go!" and take a few steps to the other side of the sign.  I follow them.

On the other side of the sign, I am happy. I am getting happier and happier.  I see many many dogs and break away from my parents, like a rocket launching from its pad, and they don’t say anything or even try to stop me. Now it’s me and the other dogs.  The other dogs want to play with me.  This is great. I want to play with them. This is great.  There are many people hanging around but they are allowing us dogs to just run free. This is great. Being free from the lead is great.

Sometimes I make friends with another dog, and we both like to run and we run very far away, running as far far away as we can, toward the edge of the park where the woods are, and loving our ability to run, and playing. Then – I hear Jane call "Joey, come." I look toward Jane and leave the dog I was playing with and I run quickly toward Jane. She says "Good boy!" when I arrive.

Then I am free again, free to pick any direction, and start running or playing.  I make friends with another dog, and we run and play. This is a nice game! This happens again and again. I find a friend, we play, then we run off, far far away, then I hear the call of my mom and friend, saying "Joey, come." I stop whatever it is I’m doing, and run toward her. She says "Good boy!" and I take  a few breaths, and then go to play again.

To me it’s never time to stop playing.  I can be thirsty and hot and my tongue is hanging out – but no part of me wants to leave my new friends.

At one point, my Dad starts running around the field and, being his running partner, I start running with him. We run and run.  Then he stops and I stop and play with other dogs again. Soon I hear Jane say, "Joey, come" and then she says, "Joey, sit" and I do, and she attaches the lead to my harness, I know the fun is over for now. That’s okay.  I’m happy.  I’ve had a good time. I’ve run a lot and felt as light as a bird.  My parents are saying things like "He looks great when he’s running" and "I don’t see any limp".  And I – I am enjoying my life, playing nicely with the other dogs.

Then it’s back home. Nobody has to say "Joey, drink water" this time.  I know just what to do! I know to drink water!  Nice that my water bowl is filled with that drink of life to celebrate the great afternoon my parents have just given me!

*****

If you’d like to write about dog parks, please add your comment in the “Comment” box below!

*****

She is not thinking about when she was hit by the truck:  She wants to be free now and she wishes there weren’t so many limits on her freedom or new rules in the home now.  This is the way we dogs are.

She may never understand why she has her leg in a splint, why she can’t do whatever she wants, why there are so many new rules, why she can’t go wherever she wants. But one day she’ll be happy with the results of this new life of hers.  Take me, for example.  After I was hit by a car, I didn’t like all the new rules I had to obey, the splint, the collar, the lead, the confinement, everything.  But the rules made me a happier dog, even happier than very very happy me that I usually am. In fact, I am now “under voice control”, which, apparently I wasn’t before, so my parents can now take me to a dog park or any other off-leash area and let me go free, which I love, and which they couldn’t do before.

Getting back to Cheyenne, last week Cheyenne was vomiting a lot.  Her injured leg has been draining a lot and making things messy.  Her moma and nana talk to Cheyenne’s doctor and the doctor says that everything is okay, that it’s just going a little more slowly than they all hoped. Cheyenne’s moma and nana are busy busy busy taking care of Cheyenne, cleaning cleaning cleaning. They are still taking Cheyenne to the veterinarian for checkups.  They are being her best friends. Now, when she needs them.

I’m glad to be Cheyenne’s friend! And I’m glad that my friend Cheyenne has such a wonderful family who have been there for her every step of the way.

******

But this picture is of a dog’s bones.

In this picture, you can see what bones of mine were broken. In addition to my ankle, my toes, numbers 26, were broken.

You can also what bones of Luca’s were broken. His Radius (# 9) and his Ulna (#7) were both broken. The doctors did surgery to the Radius, not the Ulna. Luca’s mom says the doctors say the Ulna will heal by itself. These bones are important. The Radius supports the dog’s weight. The Ulna allows us dogs to rotate our arms.

This dog’s tail is low and isn’t wagging. His tail is not like mine. My tail is usually always wagging, side to side to side, unless I’m sleeping.  You can see the tail bones of us dogs go to the tippy tip of the tail.  This is why, when I wag my tail, and the happier I am the faster I wag it, people say "Ouch!"

*******

******

Here is my time line for my rehab and recovery.  In general, my parents and my doctors made these decisions, not I.   I wouldn’t have agreed to any of them.

Day 1: I was hit by the car and brought to the emergency room of the animal medical center.  When I went home six days later, I had a full-splint on my leg.

During this time, I may only go outside to pee and poop and then must go back home. I must be on the lead at all times when outside. I must have the plastic bag on my injured leg every time I go outside.  In our home, I may only stay in one room and my parents have me confined to the living room. There is a dog gate so I cannot get out of that room, except for when they open the little door on the dog gate to allow me to go outside so that I can take my walks.

Week 5, Day 3: I have surgery on my broken ankle, though I’m asleep and don’t know what’s going on.   When I go home, I have a half-splint on my leg.

During this time, I may only go outside to pee and poop. I must be on the lead at all times when outside. I must have the plastic bag on my injured leg every time I go outside.  I may only stay in one room and my parents have me confined to the living room. There is a dog gate so I cannot get out, except for when they open the little door to allow me to go outside so that I can take my walk.

Week 12, Day 3: I go back to the animal medical center for a bandage change. It has been 7 weeks since my surgery. Although he was going to only take x-rays at this time, my doctor removes my splint!

During this time, I may now leave the living room, and I may go upstairs. When I go upstairs and downstairs, I must be on my lead.  When I go outside I must be on the lead, even when I’m just hanging out with Jane in the backyard. I still must have the plastic bag on my injured leg every time I go outside, except that now it’s a bootie. There is a dog gate blocking the stairs so that when I am downstairs, I cannot go upstairs except for when I’m with Jane or Phil and on my lead. And when I am upstairs, I cannot go downstairs except for when I’m with Jane or Phil and on my lead. When I am home alone, my parents keep me in the living room and close the little door gate. They don’t want me jumping up on anything.  My parents have made me a new bed in their room; at night, I sleep upstairs with them in my bed.

Going up and down the stairs, my muscles are starting to strengthen again, especially my leg that broke when I was hit by the car.

Week 13:  Day 3: I go back to the animal medical center for x-rays on my broken ankle. It has been 8 weeks since my surgery. My doctor removes my bandages!

During this time, I am learning to walk again. The dog gate to the living room is pushed away.  The dog gates to the stairs are gone.  I do not have to be on the lead in my back yard.  I do not have to have the plastic bag or the bootie on when I go outside!  I can feel freedom!  When I go outside for a walk, I must be on the lead (but that’s the way it’s always been.).

My muscles are starting to strengthen again, especially my leg that broke when I was hit by the car.  I’m still walking with a limp.  When I start to hop on three legs, my parents slow me down so that I use all four legs.

My walks start out short. Then they get longer. Then they get longer and longer. Then they get longer and longer and faster and faster.  My mom is walking longer and longer and faster and faster, too. This is good for me.

Soon I’ll tell you about my swimming and my running!

*******

I moved a lot of times when I was injured.

Here is my tale of moving:

Before I was injured, my parents had my bed in the living room.  That is where I slept at night.

My bed a great bed: It has lots of fluff, and a really nice cover to lie on.  Whenever my  mom washes the covers, I’m so happy to have my bed back afterward.  My mom makes a big ritual out of it:  She comes up from the basement and gets me, then I follow her into the living room. Then she puts the bed together. Then she smooths it out. I’m standing there watching every slow move.   The crowning point is when she pats the bed twice.  That’s my signal that I have my bed back.   Whether I am tired or not, I ceremoniously go lie down. It smells clean and it feels soft.

My parents have kept my bed in the living room for years, next to a sofa, because the living room is a large room and because on Friday nights and Saturday afternoons, my parents like to go to the living room and read.  I don’t read but sometimes we all fall asleep in the living room.  From my bed, I can see my mom and my dad.  Last but not least, I can get some attention from my parents when I’m there nearby. Since I can see them, I know when they’re looking at me and I will not waste any time in coming over to them to get a pet.

This place in the living room is where I was stationed during my injury, when I was confined to the living room and the dog gate stood like a soldier always at attention, keeping me to the living room side of the gate.

Several weeks after my surgery, when the doctor said that I could walk around the first floor and the dog gate was left open during the day, my parents created another bed for me.  They placed two fleece blankets in the dining room, folded once and folded again, right by the side of the door between the dining room and the kitchen.  I know this was my second bed because my mom folded it nicely, placed it on the floor, and smoothed it out.  Then she patted it twice and that was my signal that this is another bed for me.

When my parents would go out and I was home alone, I would remain on the fleece blanket in the dining room.  That’s where they would find me when they would come home. I would not go back to my comfy padded bed in the living room.

This was difficult for my parents to figure out why this was the case.  Why did I prefer to be on a fleece blanket in the dining room, over a nice comfy and fat bed in the living room?  Did I prefer the fleece to the soft comfy bed?  Or did I prefer the spot in the dining room to the spot in the living room? Was one spot cooler and one spot warmer?

Here my parents are trying to figure out how I think. They know what I choose, they know what I prefer – but they want to know why that is my preference.  They want to understand me.

I think they’ve figured me out. They’ve figured out that what’s very important to me is being a part of the family – and the place where I most feel like part of the family is in the dining room right by the opening to the kitchen.  My parents spend so much time in the kitchen and also in the dining room that this has become my favorite spot.

As a result of this discovery, they moved my soft fluffy bed from the living room into the dining room, and then moved my double fleece blanket folded once then folded again into the living room.  Of course on Friday nights when they go into the living room to read and talk and fall asleep, I’m right there with them, either sleeping or trying to get attention.

Of course I have a third bed too. My third bed began when the splint came off and I was allowed to walk up and down stairs.  Knowing how much time and how many nights I’d spent alone when I was not allowed out of the living room, they got another blanket that I love and they folded that again and again and set it down next to my parents bed and, just like before, patted it twice, which was my signal that this was my new bed.  This is the place where I sleep at night so I am not alone. I am with my family.

With so many beds of my own, that my mom washes regularly for me, I don’t need to be on the sofa.  Or I  don’t need to jump up onto a sofa when my parents aren’t home.

It’s so nice to have comfortable places to rest. And it’s also nice to be with my family. Doesn’t every dog have at least three clean and comfortable beds?

*****

*****

Discovery comes naturally to me.  It was like the days when I would try to dig my way under the fence and get out of the backyard!  Except that today, I was on a lead.   Notice that I’m not complaining. I’m getting everything out of life that I can.

Here we were, my mom and I, without a care in the world. When I stopped to sniff, my mom stopped. When I started moving again, my mom moved.  When I stopped again, she stopped.

I come from a long line of retrievers.  Bred to retrieve. Born to cross streams and valleys, born to roam and sniff. Born to be a friend of men and women. Born to be gentle: We would carry a bird in our strong jaws and not damage it (which my Dad always reminds me of when he gives me a potato chip and watches me carry it in my mouth to my bed, where I eat it.)  And my ancestors were champion hunting retrievers and today I was my father’s son and my grandfather’s grandson, and my great-grandfather’s great-grandson.  That is my nature.  And my mom was happy to let me just be who I am.

After crossing the stream and interacting with Cody, we moved along, down a wide path with tall trees and full bushes off to either side. I heard everything and smelled everything.  Eventually we got to a place where we turned left and went down another path.  Same thing. At the end of that path was a large body of water. There was one dog in the water and that dog kept trying to catch a tennis ball but as usual I was interested in the dog, so my mom kept me from playing with that dog by tugging gently on my lead whenever I threatened to climb onto the swimming dog. Soon that dog left and I had the whole body of water to myself!

Soon, more and more dogs were coming. Groups of 2 dogs, then 5 dogs, then 10 dogs. Dogs everywhere! I wanted to play with them and many of them wanted to play with me. There was one dog who did not like me. He didn’t like me because I’m a whole male and he isn’t. But the man with him kept him on a short lead and every time I went to play with the dog and the dog growled at me, the man told the dog “no”. Then when the dog was nice to me, he made the dog feel good and pet his head and said “good dog”. So all in all it worked out and the dog learned the rewards of being nice to me. There was a female there I was also interested in, and she seemed to be interested in me too so that was really great, too.

Then those dogs left. And again I had this wonderland to myself (and my mom).

I can’t say which I liked more – with the other dogs there or without.

Soon my mom took me for one last swim.One last opportunity to exercise my injured leg and get it moving.  As usual, she came in the water with me.  Then we headed out.

There is so much beauty and joy in the natural world and in the world of man. I’m happy to discover another part of it!

*******

Unfortunately we dogs sometimes seem to find ourselves in places that are meant for cars and trucks – and definitely not dogs – and when that happens, it’s not too good for us dogs.

My little friend, Cheyenne, is half Miniature Pinscher and half Jack Russell and little Cheyenne was hit by a truck.  Her survival was really amazing.

Cheyenne got a splint put on her broken leg, just like I had. Cheyenne also had her jaw wired and her pelvis broken.  I’m going to say that Cheyenne doesn’t feel very good right now.

But the good news is that she is alive, and got really good emergency medical care, and that she has momma and a grandma who want her to get better!

Cheyenne is only a puppy.  And there are so many things going on around her that she doesn’t understand. I think that in this photo, she is saying “Just love me!”

If I could, and if she were feeling well, I would give Cheyenne a big lick – my way of saying that I want to be her friend!

*******************

<- to part 1

Follow up with the veterinarian is essential.  So are regular visits, including the annual exam.  Finding a veterinarian who provides excellent care for your dog and who values good communication with you is just as important.  You and your veterinarian can work together to provide excellent health care: You can ask your veterinarian all your questions, tell her or him your concerns and observations, and work out solutions to problems or medical conditions together. After all, you know your dog – you observe him every day – better than anyone.

This morning, my mom puts the lead on me. This is good.  We go outside and I’m standing on the sidewalk, awaiting instructions on what we’re going to do and which direction I should start heading in. Then she says  “Joey, go to the car”.  I do. She’s very excited that I’ve learned this new word, car, and says nice things to me. She also says the words car Go to the car car Go to the car a zillion times. I heard her the first time, but she persists in saying this word car.

When my mom and I arrive at the animal hospital and she is putting the car in a parking space, I’m already excited.  The door to the back seat, where I am, opens and I get excitedly out of the car and I know just where to go.  I walk excitedly up the side of the building to the door of the animal hospital. Each step brings me closer and closer to bliss.  The door opens and – I’m inside!  JOEY!!!! I hear my name ring out from the medical technician and this is even better. This is the place where I was first taken when I was hit by the car.  Except that now I’m all better! This is the place where I have many friends.

Soon, I meet a technician I’ve never met before. He is really kind, I can tell right away! He talks to my mom a lot and I’m hearing the words he and Joey a lot.  I’m used to this.  I have to stand on that thing, the scale, and everybody is happy that my weight is just about back to where it was before I was hit by the car.  Then we go back to the little room and talk more. I am at the center of all this activity.

Soon my beloved Dr. Tamara comes into the room. She talks to my mom, then examines me a little, and then talks to my mom. While she’s talking to my mom, I’m paying attention to Aaron, who is really kind to dogs and to me. While Aaron and I are sitting in a corner, my mom is telling my doctor about how often I pee and mark, and about my daily habits.

Then I stand up and Aaron holds me gently around my chest while Dr. Tamara examines me some more, but I can’t see her. She’s examining me from my rear end. This is a strange examination and my mom comes over to me  and stands really close to me and looks into the depths of my eyes to a place beyond human language and speaks into my eyes and says “Good boy.  Good boy.” That’s very nice and very calming the words and the way her voice kind of sings. But this examination is very unusual.

The doctor says things to my mom that I don’t understand.  I’m not sure I want to understand.  I’m not moving – one inch – from this position.

Then that’s over.

Dr. Tamara and Aaron have me lie down on the floor. Jane comes over to where my head and face are and says nice things to me. Again, I’m at the center of all this activity but I have no idea what it’s all about. Soon, Dr. Tamara is pulling back the prepuce, the skin over my penis, and she is examining my penis. She is looking at where my penis was lacerated during the car accident. She is talking to my mom. I’m quiet. I’m a good patient.  This doesn’t hurt but it is odd.  My doctor examines me and says “I’m not worried…I’m not worried” and then nobody seems worried.

Then it’s all over. Everybody acts happy and I get treats. I’m not worried, either.

I understand happy. But my mom is very happy.

I never understood the fuss in the first place.

Everybody agrees that the urine in my blood that had the other doctor so worried about 2 months earlier when I was being boarded was just from my damaged penis.   And my prostate gland, while enlarged, is not abnormally enlarged for a male dog who is whole, like me. And I pee and mark like a normal dog and poop without any strain.  All of which make my parents, who seem to observe and note every little thing I do, very happy.

So, in the end, after a lot of examining and a lot of talking, my doctor writes “healthy” in my chart.

Healthy – and happy.

A healthy and happy ten-year-old unaltered male dog who has survived being hit by a car and is loving life, more than ever.

*********

“Is your dog friendly?” is what many dog owners who are out with their dog ask my parents when their dog sees me and wants to play with me.

is your dog friendly?

My mom thinks that this is a funny question. I mean, I am Mr. Friendly!

At the 1000 dogs walk, somebody asked my mom again, “Is your dog friendly?”

She also finds that question, Is your dog friendly?,  interesting.  She wonders if any dog owner is going to answer, “NO”.

But at any rate, when somebody asks her that question, she answers, “Yes! Very friendly!” and then she includes, “And he’s very strong.” Then she holds on tight to my lead.

I’m soooo friendly that my dad worries about me being left alone outside in the evening: He’s worried that I’m going to try to make friends with the raccoon and the skunk that clunks across our back yard from time to time when the sun has gone down. At these times, he says, “Joey, you’re going to get it some day.”

It’s easy to tell when I’m having a good time and easy to see that I was having a great time at the 1000 dogs Walk for Animals. For example, is my tail wagging? If so, I am having a good time.  Is my head in one direction but my eyes looking out to another? This is one way you can tell that I am playing. I do this with my parents when we play ball and they are holding the ball in their hand. I want them to think that I am not looking at them with the ball so that I can gain the advantage.

i want her to think I'm not looking at her

At the walk, almost all of the dogs were friendly to each other. The little dogs, who often yap at me,  didn’t yap at me.  They wanted to play – with me!

The bigger-than-me dogs had good manners, too.  Only one dog who I met – and he was a very large dog – was not friendly and did not play nicely with me.  And when he got nasty to me, his owner just said to him “Let’s go” and pulled him away.   If I acted nasty to another dog, which I don’t, I would hear my parents say “Bad” or “Joey, No!”.  My parents want me to learn good manners, too.

This was a nice morning and afternoon because the dog owners let us dogs get to know each other and to decide if we wanted to play together and if we did, they would let us play, and if we didn’t, we would move on to other dogs and other possible friends! We dogs were on leads (and my dad had to hold on tight to mine!) but we were really having a good time.

I also like to play with dogs – dogs of all sizes and all breeds. With small dogs, I feel like a father to them. I like to put my paw on their back and lick their faces. This little dog, Fiona, let me do that. We became friends for a little while that afternoon.

i'm happy to play with dogs of all sizes

I am happy to play with retrievers, but any friendly dog is fine with me!

We dogs have our own system for deciding who we like. And we’re not going to give up our secret, even if you interview us and try to find out!

can you tell who is who?

Here I am with one of my own, another chocolate lab.  See my ears? As tired as I was, there is always energy for making friends with one more dog!

This is one more wonderful activity that I’ve participated in since I was hit by the car (which I don’t remember at all) and since my broken ankle and broken toes have healed, and since I’ve bounded back to life.  And now I have to have good manners and thank my parents for letting me have this wonderful day!

*****

me and Rufus

I haven’t been this exhausted in a long time.  There must have been 1000 dogs in this place. Every where I looked a dog. Every where I turned a dog. Every where I smelled a dog!  There were more dogs than trees!

First, we were all together just having a grand old time.

Then after a while, everybody started walking.

My dad had already taken me for a walk in the morning, and here was another one! But not just me and my dad; it was me, my dad, my mom and 1000 other dogs!

We walked and walked.

Then we stopped walking.

I was exhausted and my parents brought me to water bowls that were all over the place. Sometimes the other dogs and I were more interested in each other than we were in drinking water, but then my mom and dad would give me a moment to socialize and then would say “Joey, drink” or its variant, “Joey, drink water.”

We rested for a while. I found a spot under the shade and caught my breath.  This other dog wanted to make friends with me but I was very tired.

My mom was pretty happy.

After a while, my parents and I walked back into the car.

My parents were pretty happy though my dad said he was “dogged out”. I don’t know what that means.

My mom feels this was a successful day. It was an opportunity for me to socialize and get together with other dogs. This is a big thing with her now.  She is looking for opportunities for me to use my boundless labrador-retriever energy so that I will not dig my way out of our property again and so that I will not get hit by a car again.  She also raised money for the MSPCA and the animal hospital where I had my surgery, to help other dogs.

Why can’t every day be like this day!  Well, I’m not complaining. I’m happy with each and every day in my life.

go to part 2

*****

I want to go out. I want to totally enjoy life.

I’m also  a whole male dog!  I’m all there, as they say.

So I was having a really nice time, being boarded.  I’d maybe even forgotten about my parents. (That’s between me and the four walls, so they say.)  I found a lot of places I wanted to mark, and I did.  Then suddenly I started getting even more attention than I had before.  Doctors were examining me more than before. Then there were tests.  Not that I minded, but this was a bit unusual.

I really have no idea what it was all about. But attention meant more people to play with and to make my friends.

Then my parents came and picked me up from the boarding.  They aren’t telling me much. I still hear JoeyJoeyJoey when they talk to each other and when they talk at this telephone thing.  I do know, however that they’re saying my name a lot but they’re acting like normal.

Meanwhile, when I go out walking, things seem pretty normal. My sense of smell is really good; I am excited that other dogs have been around!  Some are more interesting to me than others and I follow their scent, when my parents allow me to.  I feel good. I mark a lot, just like usual. This time spent walking, smelling, and marking is one of the highlights of each day!

Today I heard my mom on the phone saying “somethingJoeysomethingJoey” and more.  Something’s up. I just don’t know what.

But I have something more important to concern myself with now: I need to convince my mom to take me out for a walk right now.  Life is calling me, and I want to thoroughly enjoy it!

*************************

See me, to the left

My eyes glow from what people call tapetum lucidum. Then I have my flashing lights.

My mom is running with us. This is a new thing with her running with us. I like it.

We run down the big hill. I stop at every bush I can, until I hear “Joey, come”, the sound of my dad. He wants me to stay along with him.

We run and run down the carriage lane.  On this particular morning my dad sees one bunny but I don’t. Then we get to the bottom of the hill and turn and go down another smaller street. Along this street is a large pond. Jane, Dad and I run along the road along the  pond.  As the road turns, we turn.  Soon we stop, when Jane says “I have to stop.”

Then she looks at me and sees my tongue hanging out. Dad said that I’m a little out of shape.  (If my dad took me running more often, I’d be in shape, though.) Though I’m panting, I want to keep on going but I have to wait until my parents give the sign to begin again.

Dad gives the sign, and off we go again.

We run for another few minutes, and get to the carriage path again.  There, Dad gives the lead to Jane,  goes off running by himself, and Jane walks me to our home. She’s tired. She doesn’t run very often. She’s not in great running shape. Maybe if she runs with me more often, she’ll be more in shape.    As we approach our street, we see another dog running with his owner.

She’s happy because she sees the whole time we’ve been running or walking, I’m using all four legs equally.  At home, Jane takes off the lights, takes off my lead, and says, “Joey, drink water”.   I do. Then she continues Dad’s early morning run ritual – and gives me two treats.

I go rest for a while, when we hear the sound of Dad’s feet running to the back of our home and we go to greet him. He gives me one more treat!

I like mornings like this.

******

This morning did not start out like a typical morning. It started out even better.

First of all, my mom got out of bed shortly after my dad did. This is unusual. Sensing something out of the ordinary, I got up too.

a new day begins for my family

Besides, it seemed like something I wanted to be a part of. I stretched, yawned, and followed my mom downstairs and into the kitchen, where my dad was already fussing around.

My water bowl was full, as usual.  I drank a lot of water.  Jane asked, “Is this typical of him to drink so much water early in the morning?”  If she were up early more often, she would know.

Soon, things got more interesting and I could feel myself getting excited….Something good was in the air.  It was a warm morning.  Dad opened up my little box that is in the front hallway and I know that when he or my mom open that little box that somebody is taking me outside! Dad got out his supplies: little poop bags, little lights that he clipped onto my collar, and a little flashlight. Those are his toys, not mine.

Jane, meanwhile, had disappeared.   When Dad and I got to the front door, there was Jane, standing outside waiting for us. Dad and I came outside and – we all three started running!  See me?  I’m the one with my eyes glowing (from the light hitting my tapetum).

But first, I want to tell you that it was dark outside so I am going to write about the little blinking lights that my dad clipped onto my collar.  Whenever it’s dark outside, my parents click these little lights, two of them, one on each side, onto my collar.

These flashing lights don’t seem to help me in any way but they don’t bother me either, so I don’t mind. Without my lights, I’d still be able to see and smell my way around perfectly well. Dogs can see pretty well in the dark, and we can smell at any hour of the day! But humans wouldn’t be able to see me. This is important because my dad wants to know where I am at all times. He also wants cars to be able to see me.

Here I am with my lights on, under the light on the carriage path by the pond. It’s still dark out – for humans.

Once I have my lights on, we’re ready to run! Off I scamper into the delightful world that awaits.  There are no other dogs out at this hour but still – life doesn’t get any better than this!

Now you can continue to part 2.

*******

four months after surgery

It’s now been five months since I was hit by the car!   And it’s been four months since Dr. Matt operated to repair my broken ankle.

I’m a happy dog again.  No more plastic bags on my leg, no more leads just to go out to our back yard.

But everywhere I go, people still look at me and go “What happened there?”  They ask, “What’s the square on my back?”

Of all the places where I was shaved, the one spot on my back where I was grounded is still not fully grown in. My leg is much more grown in, and the place where the Fetanyl patch was is still kind of noticeable. Noticeable by people, that is. I don’t care.

But be that as it may, this prompts my mom to learn about a dog’s hair. This prompts my mom to learn about the coat of a Labrador Retriever.  This prompts my mom to learn about, in short, me.

My parents looked at my back very close up and they noticed that I have two layers of hair!  One layer has already grown back. That is the under layer.  It’s course and very short. This is the layer that keeps me warm in cold weather, so that I don’t have to wear that silly coat that my parents bought me that I kept kicking off.  It also keeps me cool in the summer, by keeping the sun off of my skin.

The outer layer is the longer layer that has not grown back.  That’s the layer, that Dr. Kiko would call my “guard hair”, that protects me from rain. And bugs. That’s the hair that people pet and say “It’s so soft.” That’s the layer that makes people call me a “Chocolate”.

So why hasn’t my outer layer of hair grown back? I don’t know and I don’t care. But my mom cares, and she learned that the they don’t grow back very easily in older dogs.  But I act like a puppy. That should matter somewhat.  Apparently, it doesn’t matter.

But there is another reason why the outer layer of hair on my back has not yet grown in.  The hair follicles are very deep along the spine of a dog, so it takes them much longer to grow in.  One vet said that it may take another cycle of shedding for them to grow in. Again, not that I car.  In fact, I think my parents don’t really care either. They just like knowing and understanding about me.

But on the bright side, what this means is that I’m going to get a lot of attention for a long long time, as people stop and point to me and ask, “Why is that there?” ! And that’s okay with me!

Getting attention is one of my hobbies, remember?

My mom has had to get very creative about getting me out of the home.

She wants to get me out of the home for a few reasons. First, I have so much energy it’s ridiculous. If she leaves me indoors for long periods of the day, she’s afraid I’ll do again what I did before.  (See, please, my posts on digging my way under the fence and out of our property, and then getting hit by the car in Chapters 1 and 2.)  Secondly, she wants my muscles to get back to how they were when I was running with my dad.

You may have noticed that you haven’t seen any nice new photos of me swimming. There’s a reason for that. There are no new photos because I haven’t been swimming. I don’t know how to tell my mom I want to go to the lake again.  I can’t just go there by myself, and she hasn’t taken me for two weeks now.

The last time we were there at the lake, a very nice officer came by to the shoreline and told my mom that she had to get out of the water. At the time, my mom was holding me up by my harness so I could do my swimming.   “Everybody out of the water,” he said.  He didn’t say it to me; he just said it to her. He didn’t include me in “everybody”. And that was the last time we were there.

So my mom has had to get creative.

Here’s what we did yesterday: She took me with her and we ended up at a place where she plays some game called golf.  This was a new place for me.  She found a place for me where she could attach my lead; I know she chose a place for me that was out of the sun and also close enough to her that I could see her. I also think part of the idea was for her to keep an eye on me because every once in a while I saw her looking my way. This game involves little balls but since I can’t run after them, I’m not interested in this game.

For a while, being near so many people, I was pretty excited; but when nobody came over to pet me, I just lay down and rested. And cooled down.

Luckily, a lot of people like dogs, and big dogs like me, and after a while people stopped by to pet me and I jumped up again. They said “sit” and “stay”.  They also said “paw”, which is something that my parents don’t like me doing because I get my dad’s nice clean shirts dirty when I do that. So I was happy because I got to do “paw” when my mom wasn’t looking. Or was she? At any rate, I got to do “paw” with some very nice children.  Once I kind of jumped up and my mom saw that (how?) and said, “Joey, off.”  At least I got to do “paw”.

So life continues to hold lots of surprises for me – and also for my mom. I like surprises, at least surprises like this.

********

***************

Since I have mostly recovered from being hit by the car, my parents often try to take me with them. They want to keep me busy and active and happy. But taking me with them is not always easy. Or safe.

For example, since I weigh almost 80 pounds, it’s not easy to take me with them in an airplane. I don’t fit in a little box that you can put under your seat.

take me with you, please

It’s not always easy to take me with them when they go camping because they can’t leave me alone during the day when they go bicycle riding or boating, or whatever they do. Why not? Once or twice they left me on the leash and attached my lead to a post outside a store and when they came back outside, they saw the lead on the tree – - but the “other” end of the lead was lying on the ground: No Joey!  Upon looking at the lead, they saw I had chewed through it! “Joey.  Joey”, my dad called, and I appeared from beneath some nearby bushes.

Some of the hotels they go to will allow you to bring your dog, but you may not leave your pet alone during the day. So if they go bicycle riding or to play golf, they can’t take me with them.  Maybe one day there will be a dog-friendly golf course? I doubt it!

I’m way too big to fit into a little basket like some dogs whose owners take them with them for the ride when they go bicycle riding.

In the summer, my mom runs errands and I’m not allowed to be alone for long in a car because dogs overheat very easily; many dogs die each year from heatstroke. So that’s out.

But since I was hit by the car, my parents want to keep me as active as possible, and as happy as possible.

So when can they bring me with them?

They can bring me with them when they play tennis.

First, my mom has her little doggie kit which is nice because it has a little bowl.  They tie my lead to a little bench near the tennis court and near the water fountain. One week, it was a little hotter than usual.  Soon my mom noticed that I was panting and my tongue was hanging out. She went to Robert, the court supervisor, who had a big shade umbrella, and asked him, “Would you mind if I put my dog here?” Robert was very nice and were very happy to have me there, sharing the shade of the umbrella.

The water-fountain was nearby and I was in the shade, and next to people who were nice.  In fact, I was under the seat, which gave me even more shade.  In the heat, my mom stopped occasionally to fill up the doggie bowl and pour cool water over me. Then she filled it up again and said, “Joey, drink.” And she waited until I would drink some water. She kept an eye on me to make sure that I wasn’t overheating, which is important because dogs overheat very easily, especially older dogs like me.

After tennis, we go right home and my parents give me a lot of water to drink and food to eat.

Now that I’m healthy again, my parents want to make sure that I stay healthy.

***********

I hadn’t run in a few days and I expected the same this morning when my dad woke me up and said “Joey, wake up.”

The sky was dark and beautiful and everything was quiet.  It was too late for the cicadas and too early for the birds.  But he and I were up!

pre-dawn, when I get up to go running

Dad was all dressed up in his running clothes when he put the lead on me; this gave me ideas.

We walked along the carriage path for a while. Then the road went downhill.  Okay, we’re walking and not running. I’m still happy.

And then he changed directions and picked up speed.  I picked up speed. We ran around a pond where ducks swam.  We kept running. We ran over a small bridge that went over the creek that fed into the pond.  We met up with a larger road that went uphill. We ran. The sky and everything else was becoming more and more visible.  Then we encountered my carriage path again and continued to run up the hill toward home. No stopping.

Then we turned onto our road, still running, and ran up to our home, which was now bathed in light. Exhausted, I was, for sure.

Luckily, inside, there was lots of fresh water for me in my bowl.

It’s a good thing I’m running with my Dad because I wouldn’t know when to stop and rest. I wouldn’t know when I need to stop and rest my muscles. I wouldn’t know when to stop and drink water. But my Dad knows.

Later, he said to my mom, “Joey ran for ten minutes today.”  All these years I thought that my dad knew me pretty well; now I’m learning that he’s getting to know me even better!

I’m a lucky dog.

I'm a lucky dog and I let my dad know it when we come back from running

******

Dad and I are running together every few days.  This morning he took me out at 5:45 a.m., before the other joggers were out, before the sky revealed its morning light.  We ran in the same morning light as on our last long run, before I was hit by the car.  This time, my dad and I ran for about 5 minutes, steady running, no breaks. I felt great.  Afterward, Dad said I was a little slower than I used to be but who cared. The running was the real thing and I was with my dad; we were together and we had the world to ourselves.

Then I came home and went back to sleep in my bed, and stayed asleep until my mom arose. “Joey, up! Up! Up!” she said, her intonation rising with each “up”.

By that time it was already really warm out. She made up her doggie kit, into which she places a few poop bags and a few treat. She also got a few tennis balls and a few towels. Then she got me into my new harness. I was getting definite ideas at this point: The harness is connected with swimming. Hmmm….My ears are standing up high and I’m following her around our home, focusing intently on her.

Then she attached the lead to the harness and off we went – into the car.

into the water i went right away

Soon we were at my favorite hangout, the lake! Ah, my beloved crystal lake!

There was only one dog there and only a few people, and I think that was the idea.

Into the water I scampered, right away.

My mom threw out a tennis ball, said “Joey, go get your ball!” and I’m supposed to go after my ball, and I start to.

But then I see the distant shore and that scares me so I turn around to face the nearby shoreline, to go back where I started out. This new harness seems to have an answer to that. My mom is right there and she gently lifts me by the harness, which is easy because I’m in deep water already, and holds me in place while I make like I’m swimming. Sometimes she holds one hand under my belly which also holds me up and allows me to just get back in shape.

I am looking at the nearby sandy beach and working hard swimming but I’m not going anywhere – but I don’t realize that. Or maybe I do, but I keep swimming and paddling away.  My legs are getting a lot of exercise, my rear legs in particular. That’s what my parents want.

My mom can see through the crystal water of the crystal lake that my injured leg doesn’t quite kick as well as the other leg. She’ll be careful to get me exercise and build up my muscles and coordination but to not hurt my recuperating leg.

Every once in a while she lets go of the harness and lets me really swim – on my own, to shore, of course. I relax a bit and sniff around.  Then she throws the ball again, I go after the ball, I get into deep water and become afraid and turn around, and while I’m looking at the nearby shore she holds me in place while I swim. She says “Good boy. Joey, you’re doing great!” a lot. Then she lets go of me and I swim, on my own, to the nearest shore. We go through this a few times.

swimming in place

It’s getting later and other dogs are showing up. I focus on them. The tennis balls don’t interest me. If a dog owner throws out a ball and his dog goes and swims after it, I go after the dog.  Suddenly I have forgotten that I’m in deep water.

My mom is watching out for dog safety and if I get too close to the other dogs she tugs on my harness. The harness is gentle and doesn’t hurt or pull or tug on my neck. It just slightly separates me from the other dog.

Another dog, a boxer, is there in the lake, also learning to swim. He’s 8 years old, and until this year he was afraid of the water.  His mom and big sister do like my mom does to me: They carry him out to the deep water, let go of him, and he swims to shore, and then say “Good boy! Good Julie!”

After a lot of swimming and physical therapy and playing, my mom decides it’s time to leave the water and head for home.

She’s hoping that when we get home, I’ll be exhausted. But I’m not. I am, however, happy – and thirsty!

************************

Luca is an American Eskimo dog and is four years old. He’s thinking, “Mom, why can’t we go back to the good old days?  Take this thing off my leg, please!!”.

I know just how he feels….Seeing his leg all bandaged and seeing the lead attached to his collar. He’s not moving very far for now, unless his parents are moving him around. It’s an awful feeling when you’re a dog who’s active, like Luca has been, as is his nature, and wants to be again.

Luca had surgery too.  He has a metal plate and screws in his leg just like I do. Shall I tell him how I’m now running and swimming again? Would that give him hope? I think Luca would still be miserable right now, even if we told him that one day he’ll be playing and moving around again. I know I was, and the word “future” wasn’t in my vocabulary.  But looking at Luca’s picture and alertness, maybe – hopefully – his bright and strong spirit – and his mom’s strong support and love – will carry him through!

I don’t know what Luca likes to do to play but I hope that he gets to do all those things.

***********************

We’ve gone through so much these last few months. I am now ten years old, have a few more white hairs on me, though I neither care about that nor can I really see the difference between the chocolate and the white hairs.

white hairs are mostly where my whiskers are

The white hairs are mostly where my whiskers are and under my chin; since I was hit by the car, little puffs of white are on my feet and my legs. But my coat is still a fully and beautiful shiny chocolate.

How could I be going white when I’m only ten years old?

One website said that I’m 75 in human years. Another said that I’m 64.

My doctors said that I’m an “older dog” and that healing takes longer, but that I’m healing very well for an “older dog”.  But when I went swimming on Friday, somebody said that I acted like a puppy.  My mom calls me a puppy. She says “Hello, puppy!” and “Goodnight, puppy dog!” Even though I’m ten, every day is new and exciting. I am enthusiastic about my life and everything about it.  When there are other dogs at the lake, I want to play with all the other dogs so much that I lose interest in swimming. When somebody throws out a tennis ball for me to fetch and another dog is swimming, I forget about the tennis ball and want to play with the other dog in deep water and then my mom says “Joey, NO!” and yanks on the harness a little so that I lay off of the other dog.

My parents want me to swim and get physical therapy but are trying to come up with other ideas. They are so frustrated about this that they last night I heard them talking about trying to find me a dog park that will allow adult an unneutered male dogs. Who act like a puppy.

Some dog parks don’t allow unneutered male dogs, such as I am.  When I was a puppy, the play groups all allowed me in but then after my first birthday, they didn’t, because of this. But if my parents do find one that allows me in, maybe I’ll get a few more white hairs there.

************

going downstairs

Jane’s learned a lot about me since I was hit by the car. My Dad didn’t mind it when I followed him around. But Jane did. Up and down, up and down, in and out, in and out, up and down and in and out all over again.  One thing she has learned since I was hit by the car is that I follow her around because I love her. I think she’s happy about that now. Since I’m a dog, I can’t say “I love you” with words. I have to say it in my language.  I can follow her around. And I do.

For three months I always had to be on the lead when I went up or down or out back. Now I don’t have to be on the lead anymore; I can walk independently. But some things have stuck, like asking permission to do many things: Now Jane goes up the stairs and I wait at the bottom. I stare up at her at the top of the steps and I put my worried look on my face which says “You’re not going to leave me down here all alone, are you?” or which says “Leaving me down here is the worst thing that could possibly happen to me.” Which she knows is not true.  But either way, then she looks at me and says, with a big smile in her voice, “Joey, come! Come up!” I know this is good. She waits for me then says “Good boy!” Obeying her is worth it just to hear those words and to see her smile.

In the old days, when she would go downstairs and I would be with her, I would have shadowed her downstairs, for sure.  Now, when she goes downstairs, she looks at me and says “Stay” and uses her nifty little hand signal and I just remain where I am. I now know that it’s okay to remain where I am, usually lying down on the carpet, and that she’ll be back upstairs, by my side. I know that she’s not leaving me and that she’ll be back – for me.

how do I love thee?

All my posts include something about my parents. I sometimes call them Mom and Dad and I sometimes call them Jane and Phil. I ask, are they my owners? Are they my parents? Are they my friends? Are we all just in one loving pack?

Since I’m a dog, I don’t have to define the relationship.

I do, however, have to obey them.  Jane will say, “Joey, go to Dad” and Dad says “Joey, go to Jane.” It’s easier for me to hear the sound  “Jane” than “Mom” and it’s easier for me to hear the sound “Dad” than Phil.

I don’t have to love them – but I do. I love them no matter what they call themselves.  I never ask myself the question, Why do I love them? I simply do.  I love them because loving is my nature and I have a lot of enthusiasm for friendship. I don’t really understand all they’ve done for me, but I have a good sense of it. In the months since I ran into the car, I know they’ve found many ways to be there for me even more than before – and the natural result is that I’ve found an even greater love and attachment to them. Even when I was eating my splint to bits, they remained patient with me, never expressing any frustration to me.

My mom and dad are different: Jane, my mom, tries to train me.  Dad used to give me a command like “Sit” and then afterward, if I did it, he would say “Thank you.” Jane said “Don’t say thank you because you say it with a really nice sweet  tone of voice and as soon as you say that in that nice sweet tone of voice of yours he thinks he doesn’t have to sit anymore.” She was right. Dad stopped saying “Thank you” and I got better about obeying.  I think she understood that part of me better than Dad did, and she didn’t mind trying to match my strong will.

Any way you look at it, my parents are the biggest things in my life.

What makes a dog love somebody? What makes a dog love his owners?

Let’s clear up one matter: I don’t love them for giving me treats.

Dad would give me one treat in the morning after we would go running, and that was it. Jane didn’t used to give me treats at all. And I loved both Dad and Mom. Jane gives me a lot of treats now that I’m injured but that’s just because she wants to keep me happy when the things I normally do to keep me happy, such as running with my dad and hanging loose in the back yard all by myself, I am not allowed to do anymore (or yet).

When Dr. Cara gave me treats in the animal medical center and I kissed her, Dr. Cara thought I kissed her because she had given me treats. Not true.  I would have kissed Dr. Cara anyway, even without the treats. I would have kissed her because I knew that she is my friend.

Treats are a distraction, however. For example, when Jane is going out and I want to follow her outside, she gives me a treat and I carry the treat to my bed. For a minute or two I’m so busy with my treat that I don’t notice that she has left. And by that time, I’m pretty cool.

Why does a dog follow his owner around?

Please click here to see the answer to this question in my next post.

Today when Jane came home, I could smell dogs all over her.  Who were they? Where were they? Then she pulled something out of her bag and clearly called out “beagle” all over.  I was pretty interested in this object.

Then she and Dad got together and called me and were fussing with this thing and with me. It wasn’t a collar. Whatever it was, it was kind of okay with me.  They worked on this and on me.  They’re saying “harness” or something, looking at instructions.  Here you can see Dad fussing with it:

fussing with this new gizmo

Fussing with it some more, but I stay calm.

fussing with the gizmo some more

I like it, but the next question is: What is the purpose of this thing?

The other day my mom was walking me on our regular evening walk. We were headed up the carriage path.

I was perfectly happy, as I am in each of my walks. I saw another dog off in the direction we were heading toward but this does not concern me. In fact, it evokes some joy on my part.

Suddenly my mom saw the dog, a big dog, coming toward us! My mom suddenly seemed very concerned and jumpy.  Maybe she was nervous: She had been bitten by a dog several years ago. But I don’t think that was it, really.

The dog got closer to us and she called out, “It’s a Retriever.” Does that matter to me? Not at all: I like any breed of dog. Then she called out, “Joey, come”. Why? I like Retrievers. I’m a Retriever, after all.

The dog ran closer and closer to us, panting the whole time. Then it crossed the carriage lane to where we were on the grassy park land between it and the 4-lane avenue. This is the same 4-lane avenue, I remind you, where I was hit by a car.

a yellow Labrador Retriever. Nice dog!

Suddenly I heard, “Puppy, come!  Stay close to me!”  Was she talking to me?    Then the dog came right up to us.  Now she wants me to play with the dog a little but not too much.  She’s holding my lead really tight. She doesn’t know this dog.  We, the dog and I, socialized a little and my mom, seeing this, loosened up my lead a little. My mom thinks aloud.  Does the little phone in her hand mean anythin about why she’s talking out loud?  “He’s a Lab.  Labs are friendly. But I don’t know what to do. Should I call the police?” she’s saying. I hardly know how to answer her. She knows that my friend Officer O’Connell will be notified.  “I can’t call the police while the dog is still running.”

The retriever calms down and my mom holds out her hand for the dog to smell. He’s okay with how she smells. Then she gets even closer and looks to see if there is a tag on his collar. There isn’t. I’m all confused and don’t know if I should play, sit, walk, head up the avenue or cross the street and head down the avenue.

The retriever then picks up running again, continuing in the original direction. I want to follow him and apparently my mom has the same idea but maybe for different reasons.

She’s is still talking and trying to follow the dog and to hold onto me as I’m pulling and pulling on my lead all at the same time.

Then the dog continues past us, crossing the next road and heading down another. “Joey, come” I heard, good news. I follow as commanded. The dog runs down the next block and we follow.  He stops at a home, at the side door. We catch up and stop on the sidewalk. Nothing and nobody moves. Then the dog goes to the front door and sits. My mom ties my lead to a post on the lawn, says “Joey, stay here. Wait here. Good boy” and she goes up the wooden steps of that home and rings the doorbell.

In a minute the door opens, a man comes out, “Max!” he says, and Max disappears into the home.

I can tell that this was a happy ending.

But then my mom started pointing at me, tied to the post, and telling the man the story of my getting free and my getting hit by a car on the same avenue where Max was found running loose. The man is nice and he listened.  He said he had had Max in the backyard and didn’t know that – or how – Max had gotten free from the leash that held him and was running loose in the neighborhood.  I wasn’t about to offer up any suggestions.

This event has a happy ending: My mom has remained cool-headed and has learned a lesson from my being hit by the car.  Maybe she has helped save a dog from danger on a busy avenue. She was careful not to get too close to a dog she didn’t know. She waited for the golden to come to us, allowed him to smell her hand so that he was comfortable and calm before she reached out to him. And I got some good exercise and met a neighborhood dog I never knew.

Today started out like any other Sunday: Dad woke up at sunrise, I woke up with Dad. And then I went back to sleep.

He woke me up later and I went out with him on a short walk.  Of course in the old days, it would have been a long run. But these are not the old days: These are the new days. These are “nowadays”.

It was a nice walk and then I came upstairs and went back to sleep in my bed next to my mom’s bed, until she woke up.

Then we were all one awake family.

My parents disappeared for a while in the middle of the day. I was pretty sullen to be alone and to not be included in whatever they were doing. But that all changed.

I saw my mom go and get a few of my poop bags and put them in her pack.  Then she came downstairs with a bunch of towels, one of which is the towel she always uses to dry me off.  I was getting ideas and the sudden and quick motion of my tail reflected that.

Then Dad came upstairs and he was jiggling his keys. I got more ideas.

Then Mom went and got the lead. My ears were on high alert.  Then Mom attached the lead to my collar, opened the front door, said “Joey, come” and I knew this was good!  Off we went to Dad’s car and me to my usual place in the back seat.

In a little while we were at my beloved lake. I love the lake and I love the dogs and excitement that surround the lake.  We took a nice walk and ended up at a cove at one end, where there is a gentle sandy beach.  My mom took the lead, and headed straight for the water and I headed straight for the water as well.  It was glorious.

My mom said something to somebody about “physical therapy” and my being hit by a car.  I wasn’t interested in her talk, however. I had a conflict of interest: I was interested in the water and in another dog that was swimming. It was difficult to make a choice but Mom solved that conflict: She pulled on the lead and said, “Joey, come.  Let’s swim!” and I followed, and we started walking in the water along the shoreline.

physical therapy for me

We walked as far as we could go in one direction and there I saw Dad on land!  Then we walked back to the original place, and there I saw Dad again!  We kept walking back and forth along the soft sands of the shoreline and Dad followed us so he could be near us.

I want to go in deeper

Soon I wanted to go in deeper. My parents said “Do you think he’s ready to go in deeper?” but I seemed to be telling them that I was ready for this so Mom let the lead out to its longest and let me swim out.  Eventually I turned around to come back in.

We played this game for a while. Mom and I would head out into deep water and once there, I would decide to turn around and swim toward shore, where Dad was. I would go up on shore toward Dad, turn around, see my mom out there in the water, and decide to go back in the water toward her, as she said, “Joey come! and wiggled her fingers to urge me forward.

Once in a while I was distracted by the other dogs in the water but since I was on lead, there was no chance of going over there and though I tried, I understood my limitations.

conflict of interest

After a while, both my parents said “I think that’s enough for the first day” and I was perfectly happy to stay on land and dry off.

Tonight I had a huge appetite and I am both eager to go out again and very tired.

Physical therapy is really a lot of fun, if you’re a dog!

*******

And with that, our moms decided to pull us apart again.  But then I heard “Let’s go in this direction” and off we went, Rosie first and me following.

We were letting Rosie set the pace.  I, of course, wanted to race on ahead, and so my mom had to keep pulling on my lead to slow me down. The idea was to keep space between Rosie and me so that Rosie could get comfortable with me.  Between the two of us, I want to be friends with everybody and she’s a little more protective, so the moms decided to keep the space as  Rosie felt more comfortable.  But my mom was working very hard and it was getting exhausting for her so she said, “How about if Joey and I go first, and Rosie and you follow.” That was agreed to and this system worked pretty well.

We kept this up all around the block and ended up back home. There we stopped.  Mom said,” I need to go inside and get Joey some water.” Rosie’s mom said that she had water with her.  Off I went into our home to drink.  Unfortunately my mom had to say “Joey, drink” because I was too excited to know to drink. But I listened to her.

Soon I was ready for another lap around another block.

Off we all went, my mom and me first, then Rosie and her mom.

Here’s a photo of us when a neighbor was walking by and said “Oh, two chocolates!” Our whole group stopped while the moms and the neighbor talked and talked.

two chocolates!

It was shortly after this when we continued our walk toward home. Our moms decided for us that this was enough for our first walk together. I could have kept on going but it looks like I wasn’t the one making the decisions here.

At one point I kissed and licked my sister, telling her how much I liked her. She wasn’t much in the mood for being kissed right then and the moms decided to respect Rosie’s wishes, and that’s okay.

Once in front of our home again, my mom got out her bag of treats and gave me a treat and said “Good boy.” Then Rosie’s mom gave Rosie a treat and said “Good girl.”  Then my mom gave me another treat.  Then Rosie’s mom gave Rosie another treat.  Then mom mom gave Rosie a treat and said “Good girl”.  Then Rosie’s mom handed me a treat that she dropped on the ground but that Rosie got to before I could. Then she gave me a treat and said “Good boy”.  All in all, there were a lot of treats given and eaten, and Rosie and I were happy dogs, and a happy new extended family!

Here’s a photo of my newly-found sister and littermate, on the day of our reunion!

my sister, on the day of our first reunion

Oh, and of course when my mom and I got back inside our home, the first thing she did was to go into the kitchen, to where I followed her, and said was “Joey, drink water!”  And I did!

***
vbqsra4i2e

Who would have believed that after getting hit by a car and being so injured, a dog could have such a wonderful morning as this one!

We all remained like this for a few minutes, with Rosie on the sidewalk with her mom and me on the front steps with mine.

Just then, one of our family friends came by. He loves and understands dogs and he loves and understands me and I love him and “Lucky” is his black Labrador Retriever (and I can always smell Lucky all over Al when Al comes over and besides, Al always knows when to give me a treat) so when Al heard that my sister was here and he saw her, right away he went over to her and they made friends. This made Rosie feel more comfortable, too.

Our friend Al introduces himself to Rosie. Rosie and Al make friends.

After Rosie seemed relaxed with Al and  I was okay with sitting and looking on, our moms decided it was time for me to get a little closer to Rosie.

Somehow I got the signal from my mom that it was okay to go a little closer. Maybe she let out on the lead a little; maybe she said “Joey, come”, I’m not sure. But we were able to communicate just fine.

This time, I was allowed to go right to the sidewalk but my mom kept me a few feet away from Rosie. Honestly, this is very difficult for me because I wanted to get close right away, but my mom held me back. (Actually, she gave my lead to Al, who is pretty strong and knows me and knew exactly what to do to keep me a few feet from Rosie .)  It was only for a little while though, so it was okay.

Rosie and I are exploring each other still from a distance but closer.

You can see in the photo how much I’m trying to get closer to Rosie but Al has to work hard to restrain me. Rosie is interested in me too, and her mom has to work hard to restrain her. At night my parents said things like “We were smart in waiting to get Rosie and Joey together so far after his surgery and after his bandages were removed because he was putting a lot of pressure on his leg, pushing on it to get closer to Rosie, and in these last few weeks his leg has gotten strong enough to handle this.” I guess they’re right. And I’m not complaining. This is a great day – any day!

After a few minutes, our moms decided that it was time to allow the next big step! We both were eager for this next step.

nose to nose

This was really a fun moment.  It was also a good moment.

Shortly after that, Rosie allowed me to lick her face a little. This was my way of inviting her to play and to tell her that I like her and want to take care of her!  Rosie let me lick her face for a moment and I heard “That’s good enough for now.  Let’s maybe start walking soon. We don’t want to do too much too fast. We have lots of time; let’s not push it.”

And with that, our moms decided to pull us apart again.  But then I heard “Let’s go in this direction” and off we went, Rosie first and me following.

I’ll tell you more about our first reunion tomorrow; please enjoy these photos!

*****Now you can go to Part 3. ***

*****

The day that I never thought would arrive has arrived! My mom must have been pretty good keeping secrets from me – almost as good as I am keeping secrets from her! Rosie has accepted our invitation to play and my mom has decided that I’m strong enough and healthy enough to now go for a walk around the block with my littermate.

Last night my Mom said something like "Go to sleep, Joey. Tomorrow will be a big day. We’re going to see Rosie!" but I didn’t really get what she was saying.

This morning I was inside and my mom was outside. I knew something big was going on outside but I couldn’t see what.  Still, I could hear it.  What had happened was this: A car had pulled up to the sidewalk outside our home and Elisabeth, Rosie’s mom, had gotten out then Rosie had gotten out.  Elisabeth and my mom had decided to keep me inside the home while Rosie got comfortable in a new place and with new people.

But when my mom came inside, I could smell Rosie all over her hands and arms. I kept sniffing for more and more information: Where was she? Would she be happy to see me? Could we play soon? It was wonderful! I could barely contain myself and if I had been a water balloon I would have exploded. This was Rosie, my littermate; we were born together ten years ago!

Soon my mom put me on my lead and slowly allowed me to go outside. First she had me sit on the front step of our home for a while, while Rosie remained on the sidewalk. Rosie and I just looked at each other and got comfortable like that for a while. It was pretty difficult. I wanted to get up but my mom would say "Sit" so I remained, according to her instructions.  You can see from the photo, from how perked my ears were, that I wanted to head straight for Rosie. But I obeyed my mom.

While I was there and Rosie was their, our moms were saying things like "Good boy" and "Good girl" so that each of us felt loved and comfortable in this new setting and situation.

Then things got even better!

I’m going to write more about our exciting morning later but I want you to see photos of me and of my sister and littermate those first moments, the first moments of our reunion.

Life is getting back to normal – slowly but surely. Actually, life is better than normal! Today started with a big surprise – a good one. It’s great and exciting to have my sister back in my life after all these years!

Now please go to Part 2.

******************************

Dakota guides Steve, who cannot see his way.  Dakota was in the hospital because one morning when Steve was going to work and the two of them were going up an escalator, Dakota’s paw got stuck. He too was in a lot of pain, just like I had been.  His toes were also broken, like mine had been. He too has to wear a collar, just like I did.

When they are walking together, Dakota helps Steve to walk in a straight line and around obstacles. Outside, Dakota also tells Steve where the curb is so Steve knows where to stop.

However, only Steve determines when it is time to go.

When they are stopped at a curb where there is a traffic light or a stop sign, Steve uses his sense of hearing to determine when it’s safe to cross.

Dakota and Steve are best friends but each one has his role and they work together as a team to ensure Steve’s safety and happiness.

I speak for Dakota when I say that dogs, even guide dogs, cannot understand or obey traffic signals and stop signs, and cannot make decisions about when it is safe to cross the street.

The bath really turned into a whole wonderful afternoon.

There we were in the hot sunshine.  Soon my mom had her Furminator out.  I know this Furminator from when my little feline-brother was alive and living with us. Mickey used to have his fur brushed all the time. The Furminator was the only tool that Mickey didn’t mind my mom using on him. I used to watch him when Jane brushed him; he hated it and brushing Mickey with a standard cat brush was risky business.  She would talk sweetly to him, “Good Mickey” everything.  He would be okay for a while until suddenly he’d lunge one of his paws, nails first, right at her. She would wrap him in a towel so he couldn’t hurt her.  It was always risky for Jane.  Until Dad came home one day with a Furminator. Then Mickey didn’t mind it. I saw that he would sit or stand and allow her to brush his coat.  My parents would say “He looks like a kitten again!”

Now she used the Furminator on me.

I get brushed with the Furminator

Outside on this beautiful day, mom spent a lot of time making sure I was as clean and shiny as a new copper penny.  I had to stand there while she brushed. She brushed under my neck, on the sides of my head, on my back, along both flanks of my long body, my thighs, my shoulders and under my chest, again and again. Each time I thought she was finished and I was free to find something in the garden to sniff, she started all over again.  One place she stayed away from was my wounded leg. She also stayed away from the places where I had been shaved and where my coat was still thin and where my skin was still sensitive.

In the end, I was so clean and my fur so shiny that the golden sunlight bounced right off my coat!

People who see me are still looking at my leg and they  say “A little surgery, eh?” However, now they are also looking at my coat and saying “So shiny!” and “So soft!”

And of course, there’s Mary, my favorite postal carrier, whom I saw today , who is thinking ahead and saying “Joey, be careful.”

You probably don’t think it’s a big thing but I had my first bath in almost four months!

First I go into the shower and I stay.

My parents followed the doctor’s instructions exactly: Dr. T had told my parents not to get me wet for one week after my bandages were removed so that my wounds could dry out.

One week to the day my mom looked at the wound, saw it was dry, and said, “Joey, come” and I followed her upstairs.  I didn’t know what her plans were. We got into the bedroom and she headed to the bathroom and said “Joey, come” and I followed her. Then she pointed to the shower and said “Go” and I just walked right in.  It was this unusual room for me, sunny at the top because there are glass windows at the top, but narrow.  I had to get accustomed to this little room.  Then my mom said “Sit” and I sat down. Then she took my collar off.

She sprayed the water gently on my back and sides with something she was holding in her hand, and the water felt warm. It was okay. Then she started with the shampoo.  Next, she started rubbing me and saying “Good boy” and using a little rubber brush occasionally. Then she said “Up Up Up” and that’s the signal for me to stand. So I stand.

The hardest part was the “Turn around” part. I don’t know what she means by “Turn around”. Usually when she says “Turn around” I stand there and look at her and then she grabs my whole body and swings it around.  Then she sprays more water on me and more shampoo on me and rubs me gently and then with the brush. She does my head last. Then she says again “Joey, turn around”. I really don’t know what she’s asking me to do but when she grabs me and moves me I think I get the idea. Maybe.

My rubber duckie takes a shower with me

After a while, she just pours me with a lot of warm water.  This time she said “Stay” and used her hand signal too and looked me in the eye to make sure I got it.  Then she left me there while she got towels.  I like that part because I like the part where I get dry.  At this point I get a lot of “good dogs”. I know she likes to dry me with the towel but I like to rub my head against the floor and carpets and anything soft I can find. Then I like to rub my body along the floor and the carpets and anything soft I can find.

drying myself off naturally after a shower

After that, she brought me downstairs for Dad to see. He was very proud of me and I was proud of myself and happy too.

Then Jane took the hairdryer and dried me off.

Then the best part: She put the lead on me and we went outside and sat in the nice warm hot sun for a long long time. Then it got even better: She took the lead off of me and I got to walk around in the garden and just find a nice hot spot in the sun.

I’m not so crazy about taking showers but the reward is great!

Now please go to Part 2 of 2.

I have one birthday every year at which time my parents usually give me a special treat such as potatoes or potato chips or something that I love. They also sing me this song; tonight they sang me a song with a really joyous melody that made me really happy. At the end of the song they said “Joey” then “Yay!” and that made me really happy.  Then they sang it again and then once more.  I love my parents. They teach me new words so I feel smart and smarter.  They try to understand me even when we have trouble communicating.  I have friends who let me jump up and kiss them, even when my parents say “Joey, off”.  I have doctors and technicians who are kind who let me kiss them and who really care about me and about dogs.  I have everything!

here's a picture of me on my 10th birthday. if you look carefully, you can see the full moon and the crescent moon in my eye.

I pose for my birthday photo in a moment of peace the garden

Many readers of my blog do not have the time to go through the comments to each post and page.  You are occupied with walking your dogs, purchasing dog food for them, taking them to the veterinarian, feeding them, and, hopefully, taking them to dog parks and off-lead dog areas! At least once a day, you get in your cars and drive away (or walk away) and leave us dogs at home, and go – where? And then you come back home to us in the evening, and spend your evenings at home with us.

So my mom and I have decided to help you by summarizing the comments that the readers of my blog have sent to me.

I started my blog in April, after I was hit by the car.  Blogging was good because I could not meet new dog friends due to my injuries (unless I was making friends in the animal hospital).  In May, from my blog, I made a lot of new friends.

One of my new friends from the month of May was Rachel.  Rachel, in my post “read my ears”, wrote about her beagle Mason and about how good his sense of smell is.  She wrote how Mason uses his ears to help him smell!  It is important for dog owners to understand just how good our noses are, because, as Rachel noted, dogs will just follow a scent when they are outdoors and not pay any attention to where the scent is leading them.  The scent could lead us off of the property, and it could lead us right into the street. And with our noses down, we won’t see anything like cars and other moving things in the roads.  This can be bad for dogs if we are off-lead. Read this post and comments for more details.

In May, I also made friends with Ellen. In my post “dogs don’t look both ways”, Ellen wrote about a cockapoo named Julie.   She says that Julie, an intelligent dog, knew how to look both ways for traffic, and to stop and wait until the traffic had passed. I am not so sure about this: Even if Julie sits down on the sidewalk and moves her head, I’m not sure if she understands what she is looking for, and understands the danger, and to wait.  My mom says that given the number of dogs who are hit by cars each year, it’s safer to assume that the dog does not know and understand.  On this point, Rachel said that Mason has to be on the lead at all times when outside, or she will pick up a scent and disappear in an instant.

Other friends who I made in May are Jerry, and Jamie, and Mike. All of these friends wished me well, and liked my blog and the photos, especially the photos of me and my bandages.  They asked a lot of questions, such as “How long do you have to keep the cast on?“. That was an interesting question, because she asked it right around the time that I started chewing on my splint and had to start going for bandage changes more often. For more details, read my post, “i’m definitely getting better“.

In one of my posts, “designer bandages“, I wrote about a dog’s perception of colors. Raviva also expressed the idea that “I never knew that people and dogs saw things differently“.  She is a good reason why I am writing this blog:  Most people, including my mom (at least, before I was hit by the car) do not understand that dogs and humans perceive colors differently, and I am hoping to educate them a little.  Actually, I never understood that people don’t see as well at night as we dogs do, and don’t smell as well as we dogs do. What a shame!

So this is a little summary of my new friends who wrote to me back in May, right after I was injured.

Thanks, pals, for writing to me and becoming my friend!

Today we took another trip to the animal hospital for another bandage change.

I met more and more dogs and one of them even let me lick him!  This dog I liked a lot. Her name is Fay. When Fay’s mommy was holding her in her lap, Fay let me lick her face.  She was really happy about this and we got along really well.  Then later Fay’s mommy put Fay down on the ground. I went to play with Fay and lick her face but suddenly she seemed afraid of me and hid behind her mommy’s legs.  Maybe because when she was on her mommy’s lap and higher up she liked me to play with her but when she was down on the ground and could see that I was many times bigger than her, she got nervous. So Fay’s mommy and my mom decided that I should leave Fay alone so that Fay could feel happy and comfortable.  It’s too bad that I couldn’t just say to Fay that no matter how tall or small she is, I would like to be friends with her and I hope she could be friends with me.  But dogs don’t communicate that way.  But if we could, that’s what I would tell her.

There were other dogs in the hospital, too.

There were two dogs named Lowell and Lana who went together with their dad.  Lowell was the younger dog and was very excited to be in the hospital but Lana, the older dog, was very nervous.   Their dad held Lana in his arms and you could see Lana was shaking and their dad held Lana so that she felt comfortable and protected. It’s too bad that I couldn’t just say to Lana that I’ve been in the hospital many times and that everything was going to be alright and that the doctors in the hospital really care about their patients. Dogs don’t have that kind of communication but if we could, that’s what I would say.

Tern, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel

I also met a dog named Tern. Tern is a Cavalier Spaniel and these dogs are very friendly to humans and to other dogs. Tern and I became friends there at the animal hospital and he even let my mom take a photo of him.

Then something really great happened:  My mom and I met two children who had a dog.  The two little children asked my mom, “What happened to him?” and my mom said that I had a broken ankle. Then the two children pointed to one of their dogs and said that their dog had a broken ankle too and had plates and screws in his leg too!   Maybe if their dog could talk to me he would say, “Don’t worry, just like me, you will be able to run again.” But dogs don’t communicate that way.

Still, I feel it in my bones that I will be able to run again and I will be able to run with my dad, we will run early and we will run far, and we will run side by side!

Now you can please continue with today’s story!

We're never going to tell you if it hurts or where it hurts.

A dog who gets hit by a car isn’t going to tell you if he is in pain.  And if he is in pain, he certainly is not going to tell you where it hurts.

At the fence that morning after I was hit by the car, my mom saw blood and open wounds but she had no idea how seriously I had been hurt.  Because of my silence, it had never occurred to her that I was so deeply wounded.  I didn’t tell my mom and I didn’t complain, not a whimper. I didn’t lie down; I stayed sitting up and erect.  I did everything she told me to do and I stayed where she told me to stay.  My eyes were wide open the whole time and I followed my mom’s every move. Even when she had driven the car to the back of our home and was opening the back door to the car to let me in, I tried to jump in until she said “Joey, NO” and she put the blanket around me and lifted me in and onto the car seat.

The hardest part for my parents was when the first doctor said, “He could die if you don’t get him to Angell right away.”

Since then my parents have been learning a lot about how we dogs are different from humans.  For example, today my mom found me licking my splint again.  She knows that something is irritating my foot and that this means another trip to the hospital tomorrow to try to determine the source of my irritation – and that in the meanwhile she has to put the sock back on my foot and the cone if my licking my foot continues. She knows that I’m never going to tell her that my foot is being irritated or where it’s irritated. I’m not going to complain.  She knows that I’m just going to try to get some relief in the only way I can, which is to lick my foot. And maybe try to chew at the splint.

That’s just my way. That’s our – a dog’s – way.

Ask any dog and he or she will tell you the same.

So my mom and dad are going to keep looking at me and looking at me to see what I’m up to every day, every waking hour. And they’re going to keep the phone number of the animal hospital close at hand.

First of all, I’m not sure what he meant by “an old dog”.

But let’s get real.  I’ve learned a lot of new tricks since I was hit by a car.

Joey at work

One new trick I’ve learned is the word “lift”.  Whenever my mom puts the sock on my leg, she says “Lift” and taps my foot to signal that I’m supposed to lift it up.  Then she puts the sock on.  Then when she wants to put the bootie on my leg, she says “Lift” again and taps my foot, signaling that I’m supposed to lift it up.  Sometimes she says “Lift” and I just stand there. Then she says “Lift” again and I just stand there again. Then she says, “Joey, lift” and I’ll take one step forward.  Maybe that’s what she wants me to do. It seems to please her because then she’ll say “Good boy!” Last night my dad was getting me ready to go out for my walk and Jane was just standing nearby. She said “Lift” and I lifted my foot.  Then I put it back down. Then she said “Lift” again and I lifted my foot again, both times without her or anybody tapping or touching my foot or leg.   It’s not easy for a dog to lift his leg straight up like that but I can do it momentarily.  So see?  Who are you calling an old dog?

I think whoever said “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks” is the same person who said “You can lead a dog to water but you can’t make him drink.”

Secondly, my short-term memory is improving with time. Maybe it’s the Omega 3 fish oils that she puts in my dinner.   Before I was hit by the car, she or my dad would tell me to “Stay” and I’d stay for about the time it took to crack open an egg.

You remember I told you that I have to go up and downstairs on my lead or certainly with somebody.  So during the day Jane goes up and down the stairs for various things.  I accompany her a lot but not every time.  There are times when I want to go with her each time but she doesn’t allow me to. So she goes to the stairs and I follow her, and then she says “Joey, stay” or “Joey, sit” and uses her hand signal.  I look at her and listen to her.  I sit and stay. And a few minutes later when she’s back, I’m still sitting where she left me.

At these times I’m a good dog and she gives me a lot of love afterwards. No treats, just love!

It’s Thursday and now I’m back home from my weekly bandage change. This was a fantastic visit.

Some dogs don’t like going to the hospital and maybe they don’t trust their doctors. But I trust my doctors because they are caring and because they say Good boy in the nicest ways.  And then they give me treats!

This hospital has a waiting room for dogs and another waiting room for cats.  In the waiting room for dogs were two other chocolate Labrador Retrievers!  One of the Labs was 4 years old and feeling pretty good. The other Lab, Lindy, was sick. Lindy’s mom said that Lindy didn’t mind going to the hospital but that she had a sister golden Retriever at home and that the two Retrievers always were sad when they were apart.

Then it was time for my appointment. Dr. TB came and got me and my mom and I followed her into the examining room, where my other doctor, Dr. Bill, was waiting for us!  I could sniff that many other dogs had been in this room at other times, which  made this an excellent choice for a room for me!

Pretty soon, I was lying down on my side and Dr. Bill and my mom were holding me while Dr. TB took off my old bandages and the splint. Then she examined my leg and sores, washed my leg and toes, put antiseptic cream on my open sores and put a bandage on the open sores, wrapped my foot and ankle in soft white bandages, and then put a red bandage on on the top layer.  Once in a while I was a little agitated and shook my leg a little but then I would hear Good boy and Jane would pet me and pretty soon I was calm again.  I almost fell asleep, I think.  I heard the two doctors and Jane talking in the background, and talking and talking: Jane told them that lately I’ve been more interested in eating and that my dad noticed that I’m starting to get interested in the squirrels in the neighborhood again. And everybody agreed that I’m feeling better and better.

At the time, it seemed like forever but Jane was petting my head in my favorite places and Dr. Bill was saying Good boy. Good boy, Joey. Then Jane was saying Good boy. I actually don’t understand the word “boy” but I do know that when people say Good boy. Good boy, Joey, they say it softly and gently and with a lot of love and that I like it and I feel good and happy and maybe that’s what’s supposed to happen.

Profile of a Superstar

Then Dr. Bill said that I’m a superstar.

Next thing I knew, I was standing up, sniffing away and trying to figure out a way to make some new canine friends again.

Jane always wants me to thank people who have been kind to me, to let people go before me when going up and down stairs and when going in and out of doors, things like that.  So right before we left the examining room, she said Joey, say “Thank you” to Dr. T and I went to Dr. T and gave her a kiss and took and ate the treat she handed me, and then I took the other treat she handed me. Then Jane said, Joey, say “Thank you” to Dr. Bill and I gave him a kiss, too, and he gave me a smile back.

I’m not sure what a superstar is, but if I’m one, then my doctors are too!

I have a lot to be thankful for.  People in the United States celebrate and ensure the basic rights of humans to live free from tyranny and to have representation in government. Many also try to give shelter and comfort to animals who are suffering.

The Angell Animal Medical Center, where I have been taken for my medical care, has a shelter for unwanted and abandoned pets, including dogs and cats.  They have a telephone hotline for animal emergencies and a telephone hotline for people who know of an animal that is being abused and made to suffer.

When I look at the American flag, I cannot see the color red (remember? Dogs cannot see red) but I can certainly see the stars and stripes!

But to be sure, I am ready for Independence Day! Are you?

Humans see bright red, soft blue, mango, green, bright blue with yellow, black, and purple. However, I do not see the same colors as you do.  Let’s go through each one and compare what you see and what a dog sees.

When you see my bright red bandages, I see brown. Dogs cannot see any shades of red.

When you see mango and bright yellow, I see a pale and faded yellow.

When you see green, I see a yellowish purple. Dogs cannot see green at all.

When you see my pale blue bandages, I see something similar.

When you see my bright blue bandages, I see bright blue.

When you see my purple bandages, I see bluish purple.

You can see why traffic lights and stop signs, which humans depend on to keep them safe when driving or walking, mean nothing to a dog: We cannot see the red for “stop”, we cannot see the green for “go”, and the yellow for “caution” is a pale and faded hue.

My world is brownish yellow, pale yellow, light and bright blue, and grey.

I can see the brown of my chocolate Labrador Retriever coat!  I cannot see the red of the Red Sox uniforms, the orange of my favorite citrus fruit, or the green of the grass.  Nevertheless, I love to sit in the coolness of the green grass, underneath the canopy of the blue sky, chase the singing red-breasted robin,  sniff the aroma of the yellow daffodils in spring.  If you give me a section of a juicy orange, I’ll stay right by your side. And if you throw me a yellow tennis ball, you’ve got a best friend!

The past few days have been pretty good days, except for the part where Jane came home one of those days and as soon as she walked into the hallway heard a big “thump” in the living room and figured out that I had been on the sofa while she was away.  My big guilty eyes and tail wagging a mile a minute may have been another hint (or admission) that I had done something I wasn’t supposed to do.

But that wasn’t the end of that.

The rules for leaving me home alone are now in reverse.  No longer am I confined to the living room; now I may be anywhere but the living room.

From now on when she leaves home, she closes the dog gate to the living room with me on the outside of the gate and of the living room.  Then the door to the basement remains closed and at the bottom of the staircase to the 2nd floor she puts the other dog gate.   The Instructions were pretty clear that I am not allowed on a sofa because jumping down off of it may hurt my foot and my chances for recuperation and running normally again.

My mom is pretty serious about the rules and obeying the doctors’ instructions, but I’m pretty serious about figuring out a way around them or at least waiting until my parents leave me home alone, at which time I can get around them more easily.  Then my mom comes back and gets pretty serious about figuring out a way around my being serious about breaking the rules.

After that, she and Phil went out at night and put the extra-large Elizabethan collar on me, just like the doctor said to do. No problem, they thought. We’ll have  a miserable dog, but he won’t chew at his splint. Wrong. Right about having a miserable dog, but wrong about my not chewing at my splint and bandages. About 90 minutes later, when my parents  came home, Jane noticed my bandages were wet and my splint had been chewed at. And my dad agreed with her.

In the picture above, you see me looking guilty as charged.

A few days ago Jane was talking to a young man named Steve who asked that question, “How did he get hit by a car?”  When Steve was younger, he too had seen a dog off-leash and near traffic and, worried that the dog might get hit by a car, had walked toward that dog to try to grab her by her collar to bring her home. That dog too, like me, had run in exactly the opposite direction from the approaching person and had run, just like me, into the street.  That’s what we dogs generally do.

I was luckier than that dog. That dog died.  And for years after that, Steve felt badly.  Even as he was telling Jane about it, his voice trailed off as he seemed to contemplate the scene, saying, ‘I felt badly about it.”

But one thing is for sure: We dogs don’t like it when people whom we do not know approach us, especially if they approach us suddenly and if our owner is not there to tell us that this person is “okay”. This is the case even if the person approaches us in order protect us, as happened in my situation and in Steve’s situation.  Our dog instinct is to run away from this person which, sadly and unfortunately, may mean that we run right into exactly what the person is trying to protect us from: in this case, into the traffic. We dogs perceive the person – though a good person with good intentions – as a threat, and ignore the danger of the traffic.

Steve said that the best thing to do if a person sees an off-leash dog that is about to run into traffic is to stand still and firmly say “Come” to the dog, and it’s even better if you can get a bone or some treat to entice us to come to you.  Also, everybody else should move away from the off-leash dog, further away from traffic.  Nobody’s asking me, but I’d say that Steve has it right. Especially the part about offering us a treat.

So I guess the answer to the question is: Don’t approach a dog that you don’t know if the dog’s owner is not there with the dog -  even if you are trying to help the dog.

Soon it was time for me and my mom to leave and go back home.

This time, I had a new collar, an even larger collar, to make sure that I didn’t continue to chew at my bandages and splint.

I also was given a new little bag to slip my leg into when we went outside, instead of the plastic trash bag. This new bag, a “protective boot”, slips on over my sock and closes easily. That’s good because it will make it easier for me to go outside!

To show my parents how much I appreciated my trip to the animal hospital, I started chewing on my bandage right away when we at home and I was before my mom could put the new collar on me.  She was not very happy about that.

Here is a picture of me in my new and larger collar, with the bandages slightly chewed at. I’m not wagging my tail in this picture.  I am not very happy about this.  I’ve been much more comfortable.

Life is going to pass very slowly for a while.  I’ll just lie in my bed and sigh. Maybe I’ll sleep and dream of running with my dad, or trying to play with a bunny rabbit, or running after squirrel. Or maybe I’ll just dream about life without this collar!

Last night I heard my dad telling my mom about all the people who have asked about me since I haven’t been out running. My dad still goes out running and when these people see him, they ask, “Where’s your dog?” or “Is your dog okay?”

Before I was hurt, one woman who doesn’t even have a dog said to my dad, “Watching Joey run with such abandon and having so much fun is such an inspiration to me.”  She told him that seeing me run makes her want to walk everyday.  Wow.   Even though running is my nature, since I’m a Labrador Retriever, I know that my dad inspires me to run.   We’ve been running together since I was a puppy.  When I see him put on his running shoes, even when it’s 5 a.m., or snowing outside, I immediately get excited and start whacking my tail on the floor to express my happiness, and make my way over to my lead.  I’m wide awake and rearing to go.  Except that these days, he’ll say “No, Joey.  Not this time.”

The only thing is that my dad doesn’t like about running with me is when I stop suddenly to take a pee, or to smell the scent of a female that has been around.  Other than that, we make a great duo.

Today, when my dad saw all the energy I had, he asked my mom when I get my next set of x-rays taken. He’s anxious to run with me because we both like to run long distances. On a good day we will run for 45 minutes to one hour.   On a short day we will run for 20 minutes.  He misses running with his running partner, and I miss running with mine!

These days I’m pretty relaxed.   I’m feeling better, the sun is shining, and the children in the neighborhood still want to come and visit me.

They like to come and say “Hi, Joey” and they like to come give me a pet.

Because I’m still injured and Jane doesn’t want me to get too excited, I will sit down and then Jane will allow the children to come over to pet me, one at a time.

It’s important for the children to understand when I’m relaxed and when I’m nervous.  How can children know how a dog wants to play?  I can’t tell them with words, but there is one easy way for them to know how I am feeling: They can look at my ears! They can read my ears.

My ears are very important for a lot of reasons.

Of course, I use them to listen.

I also use them when I am trying to smell something!  Since my ears are large and floppy, I can use them when I’m trying to smell the scents of dogs, and food, to cup the odors.

My ears are also an indicator of my mood.  You can tell when I am relaxed, when I am excited, or when I am nervous or afraid. When children want to pet me, they need to make sure that I am relaxed, and not nervous or afraid.

Here are so photos of my ears. Can you read them?

Can you tell which is the best time to come pet me, and which is the best time to leave me alone and let me be by myself?

With each new day, my leg is healing more and more. I have more and more energy, but I still need a lot of rest.  I spend a lot of the day sleeping, which is important, because my bones and ligaments need to heal.  My belly is mostly healed, though I have some scars there, and on my legs, and my fur and hair are starting to grow back.  The doctor is also watching one of my top front teeth because she is concerned that it might need to be extracted some day.  I don’t think about that.

I also need a lot of attention!  I go up to my parents a lot and, silently, request that they pet me.  When I go up to them and sit down right in front of them and stare at them, unless they’re eating potato chips or some food that I am interested in, they understand that what I want is attention. They understand that I want them to pet me. They understand that I am saying, “Oh, pet me, please!”

I have some special places where I like being patted and pet.

One place is right under my jowels.

I like to be pet also on my neck. It’s much easier to pet me here when I am sitting up.

Another place is right behind my ears.

Jane likes to pet me gently on the top of my head. This is her special place.  Most people don’t pet me on the top of my head but I’ve known her for a long time and so I allow her to do that.

In all of these photographs, I’m feeling very comfortable and relaxed.

Today marks five weeks and one day since I was hit by the car, and one week since my surgery to repair my broken ankle.

My parents are starting to think about the future. That’s a word that is foreign to me. Words like “go” and “eat” and “walk” and “outside” and “downstairs” and “upstairs” and “kisses” and “dad” and “jane” and “bed”  and “treat” have meaning to me. I can also understand words put together in sentences, such as “Go to Dad” or “Go to Jane” and “off the sofa”.  But words like “future” are just sounds.

If I could choose one big word to add to my vocabulary, it would be “opportunity”. If I see an opportunity to go outside the gate, and it’s not raining, I do.

That is, in fact, something I did today, which was a delightful day. For a few moments, my mom left the back door wide open and the gate was wide open too, and she wasn’t looking at me and I walked down the three steps that lead to the outside, and out the back door and through the gate. That is when she saw me and said, ‘Joey, no! Come inside.” I had been so happy outside. I looked at her like, “What’s the problem?” but I came inside anyway.

Here in this photo, you can probably read my mind.

My parents have been leaving the gate open lately since I’m not allowed to go outside except for when I’m on the leash.  Generally my mom has been excellent about leaving the doors to the outside closed and always putting me on the lead when she brings me outside for a walk, or to just sit in the sun for a few moments.  But this was one moment when she was distracted. And I was not far behind. To me, there was an opportunity, and I seized it.

I also violated the rule about going up or down stairs without being lead by the leash.  I have to say that it’s their rule, not mine.

So my parents are starting to think about the future. They are starting to think about what to do in order to prevent me from getting out of the yard again, unattended. They are talking to people and dog-owners about what to do to keep me from escaping again; after all, I’m a dog, and a Labrador Retriever. My parents have all sorts of ideas, none of them, from my point of view, good ideas.

Even Mary, my favorite mail carrier, who brings me a bone every day and lets me kiss her, said “How are you going to keep Joey in? They’re diggers. They dig. Digging is what they do.”

Where are my friends when I need them?

While I’m recuperating, I thought I’d tell you a little something about my family tree.

First, I’m a Labrador Retriever. Labrador Retrievers have a nickname, “Fisherman’s Friend” and a look at our paws shows that our toes are webbed!  Our powerful tail, which on me is usually wagging, is used to steer us when we are swimming.  Labrador Retrievers were also bred to be used in hunting: We would retrieve, or bring back, the small animal such as a bird to our owner. Fisherman from Newfoundland, in Canada, first brought us to Great Britain in the 1830′s and there we became known as “Labrador Retrievers”.

I was born in Connecticut in 1999.  My father was Buckfold Classical Sir and he was British.  He was classified “Junior Hunter”, a champion hunting dog.  I have many championship hunters from my father’s side, such as my father’s grandfather Bradking Cassidy, and his great- grandfather Armadha Mad Hatter and his-great-grandmother, Bradking Black Charm,and her parents Follytower Merry Brook Black Stormer and Bradking Bonny My Girl, and not to forget my great-great-great grandfather Charway Ballywill Will, and my great-great-great-great-grandmother, the famous Sandylands Tandy, on and on it goes, back and back in time to the great Banchory Bolo.

My mother was Cocoa and she was American.  I loved her. She was my mother.

In my litter, things were doing just fine. I had brothers and sisters born with me! My mother was only 3 or 4 years old when I was born.  However, while I was still a little puppy, my mom got sick and died.

All of us brothers and sisters found new homes and parents to love and take care of us.  Fortunately, Phil came along and brought me to his home and I had a whole new human family, with two parents and a sister who loved and love me very much.

Here’s a funny story about how my littermate sister and I met by chance one day:  One day Jane and I were together, she was bringing me to a kennel for a few days, and in the lobby a she saw another chocolate Labrador Retriever that looked just like me and she went up to her parents and asked, “Where was your dog born?” and “How old is your dog?” and it turned out that this was my sister and littermate! You see, Rosie, one of my Labrador Retriever sisters, lives in my town and finally, after  9 -1/2 years, we were in the same place at the same time.

You can see, in the photo to the right, how we have a family resemblance.

Since that day, Rosie’s mom and my mom Jane have been communicating.  They want to get together with us two Labrador Retrievers and we will all take a walk together when I get better and am allowed to walk for longer distances and to be around other dogs!

Here’s a funny story about how my sister and I met by chance one day:  One day Jane and I were together, and she saw another chocolate Labrador Retriever that looked just like me and she went up to her parents and asked, “Where was your dog born?” and “How old is your dog?” and it turned out that this was my sister and littermate! You see, Rosie, one of my Labrador Retriever sisters, lives in my town and finally, after 9 -1/2 years, we were in the same place at the same time

You can see, in the photos of Rosie both to the left and right, how we have a family resemblance. We even have the same grey hairs!

Since then, my sister’s mom and my mom Jane have been communicating.  They want to get together with us two Labrador Retrievers and we will all take a walk together when I get better and am allowed to walk for longer distances!

I have a lot to look forward to.