*****

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!

Well, here is what my parents don’t want me to do. Here is what my doctors don’t want me to do. And here is what my doctors say that if they see me doing, and if they notice my bandages getting wet, they have to bring me to the hospital.

Joey licking his bandages and splint

My doctors and my parents don’t want me licking my bandages.

First of all, licking my bandages may indicate that I’m uncomfortable and that I have an infection. Also, wet bandages may tighten up and cause problems for my circulation.

When my parents see me doing this, the collar that I hate so much has to go on. Then, if my parents have to bring me to the hospital, I have to be examined for signs of infection. I also have to have my bandages changed. Once I chewed up my splint so much the doctors had to make me a completely new splint.

This isn’t the first time I was licking my bandages, by the way.  It is, however, one time that I was caught on camera!

*****

Today also marked the first day of my new personal sense of freedom.

The day started like all the other days when I had a visit to the animal hospital, except for three things:  On this day my dad did not go to work.  My mom also didn’t give me breakfast. And third, both he and my mom got in the car with me. Still I didn’t suspect that anything was really different.

Now please continue to Part 2 of this 2-page post to read about the rest of this great day!

As the weeks go by, my new coat is growing in and the bald spots where I was shaved are disappearing.  I never pay any attention to these areas of baldness. They don’t mean anything to me.   I’m not one to pay attention to looks. When I meet a person or a dog, the first thing I do is to sniff and see if the scent is attractive to me. With people, I sense if this person is friendly and most people I meet are friendly so that I’m happy.  I never care what another animal or person looks like.

Also, when my parents are out walking me, people stop and stare – fewer now than in the beginning. That didn’t mean anything to me either. When I’m out walking, other things are much more important to me.

But my mom says that it’s time for me to write about this this issue of my bald spots. So here goes:

I have a number of separate places where I was shaved and toward which people point and then ask, “What’s that?” or “What happened here?” And usually I have to stand still so my parents can explain each spot, which is really annoying to me but which I’m getting better about standing still while people talk about me. But let me get back to the story that you want to know.

I was shaved on two occasions. The first time was the first day that I was admitted to the hospital as a patient, right after the accident.  This is where I received the large square you see, the bald patch closest to my neck. I was shaved here so that the doctors could apply a patch that contained some medicine so that I did not feel pain. That patch remained on my skin for maybe two weeks.

In addition, the  emergency room doctors shaved all around my leg because I had many wounds to my leg that had to be cleaned up and have antibiotic creams applied. One area of my leg had an open wound which Dr. B closed surgically; by that I mean he stapled the skin closed. So my whole leg had to be shaved so that the emergency room team could patch me up.

The next time I was shaved was one month later, right before my ankle surgery.  Here the surgeons really went to town shaving my leg. I think they left me some coat – but not much.  The whole area had to be clean and sterile for the surgery.

There is also a rectangular spot in the middle of my back, above my tail. This was where I was grounded so that, during the surgery, I did not receive an electric shock.

This sounds strange to a lot of people. I don’t understand any of this so don’t ask me; ask my parents. Actually, don’t even ask my mom because she doesn’t understand about electricity either. Understanding electricity is, to my mom, kind of like my understanding why I cannot dig my way out of the garden: Neither of us gets it. So maybe you can ask my dad. He understands electricity.  Or maybe a doctor or veterinarian will make a comment onto my blog and explain it to you. All I can tell you is that it was done to protect me so that I was safe. And that’s the most important thing!

The best thing about telling this story, from my point of view, is that after my mom took the photo of me that you see to the right, during which time I had to stand perfectly still, she said “Good boy!” and gave me a treat.

There I was – happy as could be – without the splint for the first time in months.

It was the afternoon and I was with my mom.  The telephone rang and my mom was talking and talking to my dad. Then my mom turned to me and said, “Joey, it’s “Bring Your Dog to Work Day” in Boston” and we’re going to go out! But she didn’t tell me we were going to see Dad.  Next, my mom dressed me all up (that is, she put the sock on my foot, the bootie over that and put the lead on me). Then we walked to her car. We drove to my dad’s work.  There, she pulled the car up to the curb and there stood Dad! Happiness and Joy!  Dad opened the car door and I got out. Jane drove away.  Dad stood and I sat until Jane came back (without the car). Then the three of us walked to Dad’s work, which was only a few feet away. We went up the elevator and into a new and special place.

Right away I was so happy to see new people and make new friends, and people were so happy to see me and I could hear the smiles in their voices. “Joey!” they called to me. This made me even happier. Then more and more people started coming to see me. “Joey! It’s Joey, from the blog!”  They were so excited which made me more excited. They especially got a big kick out of my sock.

Rachel, Tammy and me

Then we all walked to my dad’s office. After all, Dad had work to do. I’m not sure what that means, but I think it means that I’m supposed to be quiet and “sit” and “stay”.

Being quiet and sitting was difficult to do because more and new people kept showing up and wanting to pet me and wanting me to play with them, and take photographs with them.

Jane took a lot of photographs but she wasn’t very happy with the photographs. She kept saying, “Joey, stick your tongue back in your mouth”. But I ignored her.

Rachel, Tammy, Jody and Jamie

Then I went into my dad’s office and Jane said, “Joey, sit” while my Dad got quiet and then she got quiet. When I would sit, everybody would say “He’s so gooooood!!!” and then I would get excited and stand up.  Jane wasn’t so happy about that because I still had my injured foot and she didn’t want me standing up too much. But that’s happens when a dog goes to work: A dog has to work at making all the friends he can!

Soon my Dad brought me a bowl of water and Jane said “Joey, drink”. People were watching me drink and they said, “Wow! He’s so good!”  I felt happy to hear them say that with their approving voices.

so much work

Then it got quiet again and Jane said “Sit” and then “down”.  She kept piling books near me.  It depressed me that I couldn’t play with my new friends while she kept piling more and more books near me.

What's that?

Another big deal was the bald patches on my fur. Although my coat is beginning to grow back, people pointed and said “What’s that?” and my dad was explaining everything. I actually don’t understand what they’re talking about but I do know that they talk a lot and point a lot to my back.

Soon it was time to leave. My dad didn’t think he could work with me there, which I think means that I couldn’t sit and be quiet. Actually, I could sit and be quiet but all my friends there couldn’t stop coming and visiting me. So it was time to go back home with my mom.

The most important thing I have to say is that I love all of my new friends and that if my friends are reading this I want them to know that I would be happy to come back and see them some time.

this photo speaks for itself

The other most important thing is that it was really nice to spend some time with my dad in the middle of the day and I really love him a lot.  And Dad, if you’re reading this, I love you.

Except that I’m not allowed to walk more than a block in each direction.

No splint, just bandages. View of my paws and ankles, from behind.

In fact, Jane and Phil are still keeping me on my short lead whenever we are outside and I’m still on the lead when we go up and down stairs.

In fact, in some ways I’m more limited now that the splint is off.  Since I now have more pressure on my leg and less support, I have to be more careful than I’ve had to be recently. With the splint I was going up the stairs and down the stairs numerous times a day. Now they only let me upstairs once – to go to bed for the night – and downstairs once – to go out in the morning for my morning walk with my dad, and I have to stay downstairs all day.

Still I feel lighter and happier! My leg is getting more air and there is less irritation.

Many people look at my leg and still see the bandages which are currently bright blue (to humans) but to me – do you remember? – is a pale blue. They can’t tell that the splint is not there under the bandages. But it’s not there!

Dr. Bill, my doctor was leaving the animal hospital and moving to another city and this was his going-away present to me!  He was going away but he gave me the going-away present.  That’s the kind of doctors I have.

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.

Everybody asks “How’s Joey?  How’s he doing?”

Anybody who knows me can tell I’m feeling better than I was ten weeks ago – or even last month. How? Here are the top ten things that my parents have noticed:

I'm feeling better

1) I’m running up and down the stairs faster.

2) At midnight on a beautiful summer night, I make some type of deep howl that I want to go outside.

3) I’m scratching the ground after I pee.

4) I’m getting interested in the squirrels and bunnies again when my dad takes me out for my early morning walk.

5) I’m picking up my tennis ball and throwing it up in the air and playing catch with myself again.

6) I’m playing with the area rugs and rolling them into little balls, which frustrates my mom to no end.

7) I’m even eating all my breakfast topped with the glucosamine and chondroitin sauce before Jane even has to say “Joey, eat your breakfast” and my dinner with its salmon oil topping before Jane has to say “Joey, eat your dinner”.

I seek out other dogs when I’m outside now and follow the trail of their scent.

9) I’m bringing my tennis ball to my parents for them to throw to me (although they aren’t throwing them for me to catch).

10) If you get near my tail when I’m wagging it, you might feel something more like a fly swatter than a tail!

I sure hope that I get to spend more time outside soon and that I start running with my dad. I have so much energy!  What can I do with it every day?

When my dad he gets up at 4 a.m. and gets dressed to go running and I get up too and get all excited and my dad says, “Joey, not today. Go back to bed” I do what he tells me to do. I go back to bed.  But it’s hard for me.  I hope soon he’ll say “Joey, come!  Let’s go run!”

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!

I’d like to show you the new bag for my leg.

high-tech bag

This new bag, or bootie, replaces the old plastic small wastebasket bag that was formerly put on my leg each time we went out.

low-tech bag

Initially, when my parents wanted to take me outside, they would put on my sock and over that the white plastic wastebasket bag, and then they would either get some tape and tape the plastic bag closed or they would twist and twist the top and tie that so that the bag stayed on me. It seemed to take forever, especially because it was hard for me to remain still while I was so full of anticipation of going outside.

Now the sock goes on and over the sock goes this little black bootie. It’s so quick. And that means I get outside faster.

Jane is trying to teach me a new word, “Lift”.  It’s debatable whether I actually understand her when she says “Lift” because at the same time she also taps my foot lightly, signaling that I’m supposed to lift my leg just high enough that she can put the sock on.  Meanwhile I have to balance myself on three legs. Did you ever try that – balancing yourself on three legs?  Then we go through this “Lift” routine again, this time for the medipaw bag. But I’m perfectly happy to let her believe that I’ve added one more word to my vocabulary.

The hardest part for me is still staying still while my parents are fussing around with my leg and these bags.  My mind is focused on being outside and I’m so excited that I cannot stay still. This is where the medipaw bootie makes my parents happy. They slip this bag over the sock, make sure that it’s facing in the right direction, tie one velco tie, tie the other velcro tie, then pull the elastic tab to close off the top.

It takes less than a minute if I am standing still.  It takes forever to do if I am moving around.

I support improvements in technology.

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?

Today was another fun trip to the hospital.

Every time I go there, the variety of dogs changes. Today I saw a large Golden Retriever who was a real swimmer.  His owner said that he swims all year around in the ocean of of Cape Cod. That water is cold in the winter but we Labs are born swimmers, so it’s good to see my cousin doing what he loves doing.

Today I met a new surgeon who wanted to change my splint and clean my wounds. The first thing she did was take my weight.  She said, “That’s just where we want him.”  Then she said that I was looking just the way they want me to look, so you could see my ribs but they weren’t sticking out. Does that mean that Jane isn’t going to continue to put chicken in my dinner and breakfast? Together, the doctor and Jane decided that Jane would put a little less food in my bowl for breakfast to keep my weight where it was.

The next thing was the procedure. Dr. CB, a technician and Jane had me lie down on the ground and Dr. CB removed the old splint. She cleaned out my wound and put antiseptic on it. That part kind of hurt but Jane kept petting me and everybody was saying “good boy good boy”. Then the surgeon wrapped new bandages and my old splint and more new bandages and asked Jane what color bandage she wanted on top. Jane said “green”.

The next thing I knew was that I was sitting up again, and I was kissing her for being so nice and caring!

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!

I never was able to tell my parents the actual story of how I was hit.  So how did they find out the details?

Here you see the main 4-lane road on the right and the carriage path on the left where people jog and dogs are walked. People also jog and dogs are also walked in the center green park that stretches for miles and miles. It was in this green island that I found the other dogs and into the street on the right where I ran and was hit.

Humans like to talk so, naturally, following my accident, there had been a lot of buzz in our neighborhood amongst dog owners and dog lovers that a dog had gotten hit by a car. Many of these people were shaken up.  They didn’t know if “the dog” had died or had survived.  Nobody put it together that I was the dog that had been hit. They said it was a brown dog (that would describe me), a large brown dog (that would definitely describe me), but when my favorite mail carrier suggested that it was me, Joey, the chocolate Labrador Retriever, people said “No, No, it wasn’t a Lab”.

Within a few days of my returning home, when my parents  started taking me for walks up and down the block and people saw my wounds and my bandages, they starting putting two and two together that it was me who had been run over.  People who my parents talked to said that there had been witnesses to the accident.  Our mail carrier knew  one of the witnesses and told us where this person lived. One day my parents went over to this person’s house.

She had been the person who reached out to grab me to keep me away from the other dogs who I wanted to play with. She had heard my scream and had been haunted by it for days; she had been thinking about me and hearing my scream in her mind over and over for days. Because I ran off, nobody knew whether I had survived; she and several others feared that I had not.

When my parents talked to her, to her great relief, they told her that I had survived.

However, they didn’t tell her that I had survived to write about it!

Now please go to approaching a dog, part 2.

Today I got to spend more time at Angell and to see more dogs.  Never mind that the doctor changed my splint again because my mom noticed that I had eaten the bandages once again and that about two feet of bandage was trailing out the bottom of the splint, and that I had chewed away at the bottom part of my splint.  There is no doubt that I would have continued pulling and chewing had she not seen me and stopped me.   Never mind that within ten minutes of her noticing that, we were back in the car, my joy at going for another car ride had made me forget about my annoying splint and bandages. I was at the animal hospital, among friends.

In the animal hospital, I met a wonderful dog named Traveller.  I am showing you a photo of Traveller, who was really friendly, very sweet-natured, and very mature.

A lot of children also came up to me. The children were very interested in me and asked Jane a lot of questions about me.

Two little sisters, Wanda and Miri, came and sat near us.  Wanda wanted to know my name and I couldn’t answer for myself so Jane answered for me. When Wanda’s little sister Miri saw my tail wagging back and forth, she pointed to my tail and her finger was moving back and forth as my tail was moving back and forth, and she asked, “What’s that?  Why is his tail doing that?”  Jane said that it’s called wagging, and that I’m wagging my tail. She said that I wag my tail when I’m happy.  The little girl seemed happy with this answer.

Then a little boy who said his name was Giovanni came up to us.  He saw my leg in the bandage and wanted to know what had happened to him.  Jane said that I was hit by a car.  Honestly, I don’t remember being hit by a car, but that’s what Jane said happened to me.  Giovanni had a lot of interesting questions. He pointed to the large bald spot on my back and leg and asked, ‘What happened here?” Jane said that the doctors had to shave me so they could do surgery on my ankle. They wanted the whole leg to be clean.  Then Giovanni pointed to the bald rectangle on my side and asked, “What happened here?”  Jane said that when I was hit by the car, I was in a lot of pain so the doctors shaved that area and then put some medicine on that spot so that I didn’t feel so much pain and could relax.  Giovanni held out his hand to me and I licked it. Then I licked his face!  He laughed and enjoyed that!

Wanda then came up to us again and held out her two hands that were cupped together as one, and showed us a little box that she was now tenderly carrying.  Wanda had had a little white pet hamster named Cookie Dough and he had fallen down and gotten very hurt. The girls’ mommy and the two sisters had brought him to the hospital but the doctors couldn’t save his life. Wanda said, with tearful eyes, that inside the box was Cookie Dough and we said “Goodbye, Cookie Dough” and gave Wanda a little hug. Then Wanda, holding her little box, and Miri and their mummy left the hospital, to allow Wanda time to heal her fractured heart.

Two days ago, my mom saw me licking my bandages and asked herself, “What’s he trying to tell us?” I didn’t offer any ideas or suggestions. I did, however, look at her with my big wide open brown eyes.

She didn’t quit, there, however. She didn’t take silence for an answer

She telephoned the local animal hospital.  Somebody suggested that my parents put collar back on me, but Jane didn’t like that idea: She said that I could lick my way around the collar anyway. Besides, Jane wanted to know what was causing me to lick the bandages. The veterinarian there said to just put the sock on and that if I continue licking my bandages, to take me to the big 24-hour emergency hospital. She put the sock on and left it on until it was bedtime, when we all went to sleep.

The next evening, dinner was cooked and the table was set for dinner. My dad had just come home from work and was getting ready for a nice restful evening and beginning to the weekend. All was quiet in our home.  I was in my bed in the dining room and my mom was nearby. Suddenly breaking through the silence and distractions of getting ready for the evening and dinner, my mom heard the sound of lick lick lick.  The sound of me licking my bandages was unmistakable. She stopped what she was doing.

I followed her movements with my eyes.  She walked over to me, and noticed my bandages were wet.  She looked into my eyes and saw me looking at her.  Then she looked at my toes, which were visible through the open bottom of the splint and noticed that my toes were very swollen. She touched them a little and felt that they were swollen.  I didn’t say anything then either, but I continued to look at her with my big brown eyes so wide open the white around them were like the crescents of the moon.

Then she called my dad over to also take a look. He said, right away, “The bandage is on too tight.”

It was really exciting for me when my dad put the sock back on my foot and got the plastic bag because I know those as signs that I’m going outside! Then my dad said, “Joey, come” and got my lead. Even better, I’m definitely going outside! Then we went outside and toward his car. Even better! I’m going for a car ride! With a wag of my tail, I forget all about my paw and my bandages and we drove off.

Right away the emergency care doctor came out to see me and right there in the hospital lobby saw that my bandages were too tight and quickly got a pair of scissors and cut my bandages open right there! Wow, relief! Then she took me with her into an examination room, took off the old bandages and re-bandaged my splint.

In a while, my dad and I came back home, and mom gave me dinner and my meds. Today I’m standing with all four paws on the ground and walking with all four legs – most of the time.

I’m definitely getting better. I can feel it. I’m getting better, day by day. Especially on beautiful days like today, I’m certain that I’m getting better!

I’m also gaining back the weight I lost. I weighed 80 pounds before my injury.  Within a few weeks I had lost ten pounds! Now I’m back up to 74 pounds. I have more energy and feel like eating.  That might have something to do with the fact that my parents are sneaking little pieces of chicken into my food and then mixing it all up to make sure that I don’t just pick out the pieces of chicken and to make sure that I eat quickly, because I have to take my medications twice each day, and they don’t feel like standing around waiting for me to eat my meal.

I am not, however, ready to start running or anything like that.

Today my mom notices that I will stand on three legs and paws, and hold my fourth one up in the air. She assumes this is part of the healing process. She is wrong. I’m holding my leg up in the air because it hurts and it hurts because the bandages are too tight.

I still have to go to the veterinarian each week for a bandage change.  My parents are very careful about this.  They are looking at my injured paw to make sure that my toes look healthy and are not swollen, they are looking at my bandages to make sure I’m not chewing at them, and they are looking at my bandages to see that they stay dry.

My parents still keep my walks short, and I still need a lot of rest so everything can heal.

I still have to go to the veterinarian each week for a bandage change.  My parents are very careful about this.  They are looking at my injured paw to make sure that my toes look healthy, they are looking at my bandages to make sure I’m not chewing at them, and they are looking at my bandages to make sure they stay dry.  Yesterday my mom noticed that I had started chewing at my bandage. She put my sock on that foot, and drove me over to the veterinarian’s to have my paw checked out.

My life is very busy.  I’m busy getting better!

The first thing that happens is that my my dad or my mom gets my lead and I get all excited because I think I’m going outside for a walk. Then either she or he clips it to my collar and adjusts it so I’m on a “short lead”.

Then I hear the words “upstairs” or “downstairs” and I know those words, so I get ready for action.  Of course I’d rather go outside, but upstairs and downstairs make me happy too.  I like to go the stairs quickly.  It’s easier for me to race my way up than to walk slowly. But I am not permitted to rush either up or down the stairs.  So Jane and I, or Phil and I, will go upstairs together and Jane will slowly say “S-L-O-W-L-Y” all the way up. She likes to remind me of things.

On the way down, I have an easier time going “S-L-O-W-L-Y”. She takes two or three steps, and I take two or three steps steps. Then she stops.  Then I take two or three steps and she takes two or three steps, and stops. We work together pretty well going down.  It’s a time of harmony for me and Jane!  I occasionally glance at her while I step, following her lead.

Today we are going down S-L-O-W-L-Y and I hear a delivery van near our house. Wow, just my luck! I love delivery vans.  And in each delivery van, there is a delivery person!  Maybe he’s coming to our house! I start lurching forward, toward the bottom of the stairs, with all my might, and Jane starts holding the lead with all her might. My might against her might. Then I add my bark to the mix, and she just says, “Shhhhh.”

Eventually we arrive – together – safely at the bottom of the stairs just around the same time as the delivery man drives away in his van.  The packages are on our doorstep.  This moment had so much potential!

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?

My parents seem to be making a big deal out of my eating two meals each day.

Honestly, I don’t like eating dog food. Dr. M’s technician said that this was very odd for a Labrador Retriever. She said that dogs in general, and Labrador Retrievers in particular, are usually vacuum cleaners around food. I don’t know about this; I do have the papers to prove I’m a Lab. But the truth is that when my parents feed me dog food, I can go a whole day without eating.  Even in the good old days when Phil and I used to take long runs for as long as one hour, I still would come home and not eat.  Phil would go to work in the morning and come home at night, and my food bowl would still be full from breakfast. Sometimes I wasn’t even interested in drinking water.

My mom changed all this.

She rewrote the saying, “You can lead a dog to water but you can’t make him drink” to “You can lead a dog to water and you CAN make him drink.” And then she wrote a saying of her own: “You can lead a dog to his food and you can make him eat.”

My mom and I have a lot of famous stare-down contests. I stare her down so she won’t make me eat, and she stares me down until I eat.  This has intensified lately, as I must take medications that require they be taken after a meal, and as I’m now tired of the chicken broth.

Here is a photo of me staring her down. I want her to think that my eating my breakfast is the worst thing that could possibly happen to me.  Within a minute or two from when this photo was taken, she is staring me down, and I am eating. In fact, I am eating my entire bowl of breakfast. She wins.

Then she says, “Good boy!  Good boy, Joey!” and gives me my medication.

After that, I get a treat!

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?

One of my favorite hobbies is playing with a ball.  I have many ways to play ball.

One is for somebody to throw it and then I go and run after it and catch it in my mouth.  Then somebody yells “Bring me the ball” and I’m supposed to bring it back, but I don’t always do that. Sometimes, I do, but sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes my parents will have to say, “Joey, come” and I’m supposed to come with the ball, but I don’t always do that, either. Sometimes I drop the ball, and then come to them, leaving the ball behind. Then they say, “Joey, bring me the ball” and here we go, all over again.

Sometimes I’ll bring them the ball, but I won’t drop it. Then they say, “Joey, sit” and then “Drop it” and “Drop the ball” and “Joey, Drop it” until I finally let go of it.  I like this game.

Another game I like to pay is toss the ball high in the air and catch it with my mouth.  I play this by myself, and I am proud of this skill. I can play this for a long time.  Sometimes when we have people over our house, I will start to play this game as a way of attracting their attention and as a way of saying “Play with me”.

Now that I’m wounded, I can’t play ball either with them or by myself. I’m not allowed to hurt my ankle, which is in the splint and is trying to heal from the surgery.

The closest I can come to playing ball is watching baseball, as you see here.  I’m watching baseball with  my parents so that we can spend time together.  Baseball is very big where I live.  I’m a little interested in the motion on the screen.  In these pictures, my team is at bat.

We won this game, by the way, 4-3.

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.

Every day I have gone out for my daily walks but today I am finally allowed to go outside to sit outside on the grass, like I used to, as long as I am wearing a sock on my wounded foot, and have a plastic bag over that.  I still have to be on the leash at all times.  Dr. M said I might want to chase a squirrel or go run to say hello to a neighbor and the leash will prevent me from running off.  He knows me very well and we’ve just met; how could this be?  Doesn’t he trust me?  Still, it was fine with me.  I can’t run around much anyway, since my ankle is really sore from the surgery. For now, I’m happy to be outside in my world!

When I walk, sometimes I hop on my three paws, holding the fourth leg up in the air, and sometimes now I’m actually using my fourth paw, putting my 4^th leg down every now and then. Dr. M said this was a good idea, because he wants my muscles to get nice and strong again.

That hole over on the side that I dug…It’s still there. But today I’m not getting any ideas.

Wait.  I perceive some movement beyond the fence.  Who’s that I see and hear off in the distance?  Is that my little neighbor, Zooey, and her mom? Oh, it is! Can she see me?  I’ll just quickly wag my tail and say hello!

Zooey’s mom calls hello back, and tells Zooey to say “Hi Joey!” They wave. Then Jane calls out, “Joey had his surgery two days ago and now he can have visitors.” Soon Zooey and Zooey’s mom come over to my home to say “Hello, Joey!” closeup.  They walk slowly because Zooey is only now learning how to walk.  This is great. When Zooey and her mom come into our home, I am very excited, because I love to play with children. However, I’m a big dog and almost 10 years old, and Zooey is a small child and only 2 years old.

So on this afternoon, my mom puts me in the living room and closes the new gate that we have, and Zooey stands in the hallway in the arms of her mommy, and she waves at me from there, and says, “Hello, Joey!”  Then she smiles, and I wag my tail.  Both Zooey and I are happy.

We have great neighbors, and I’m a Labrador Retriever, after all, and being neighborly is one of my and our favorite hobbies.

I’d like to show you the latest in my series of designer bandages. This one seems to be designed specifically for me, the lightning bolt, since I like to bolt from the back yard as fast as lightening!

Now that the surgery is over, my parents are wondering if my experience getting hit by the car is going to stop me from trying to dig my way out again.  I’m not making any statements at this time, but maybe they have some plans to outsmart me.

In the meanwhile, I’m showing off my bandages.

Dr. Plonsky, at the University of Wisconsin, says that when humans see bright blue, dogs see a color that is softer, more faded, paler.  The lightning bolt yellow of my bandage is also a more faded yellow to the canine eye.

While you humans are enjoying this beautiful design, I’m going to get my rest, drink fresh water, eat some nice food that my parents have put out for me, and enjoy laying in my soft bed, which is right by the window, in the warm rays of the sunlight which bathe me.

From my spot, I crawled into our neighbor’s yard, and from there I contentedly trotted out onto the street, past green bushes and green grass. And there I met my destiny. My parents say that I was escaping again, but I was just trying to practice another of my hobbies, which is making friends.

Here is a picture of the hole that I dug. You can see the morning light at the end of my tunnel. I’m very proud of this particular tunnel.