*****

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!

******

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!

*******

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.

Jane 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!

*******

My parents have been watching me like hawks to see when it’s okay for my dad and me to go running again.

My mom has started a series of long neighborhood walks with me, walking at a quick pace.  She wants to strengthen my injured leg. She also wants to build endurance in me.

She looks to see if I am limping or using three legs and holding my injured leg up when I go quickly.  She looks to see if I am walking on the grass or on the asphalt or sidewalk. She is looking to see if the pads of my paws are tender or are getting calloused and tough.

My parents are looking at the muscles on my left side, the injured side, and comparing them to the muscles on my right side.

When Dad and I are walking and he sees me hopping, he says “Use four legs” and I slow down.  Mom has a different technique:  “Walk slowly,” she says.

Today we were outside in the back yard and my dad has started throwing the ball for me to catch. He wanted me to see what speed I run at naturally and he noticed if I was hopping or using all four legs.

maybe i'm a little too wild for this stage of my recuperation but catching my ball is so much fun!

He noticed that I ran to catch the ball and that I used all four legs.

He noticed that after about ten minutes, I got tired and needed to stop and rest, so we stopped playing that game.

Yesterday my mom and I had a good long walk for 50 minutes. She was happy to see that I kept up the pace. She was happy to see that, though in the beginning I was hopping a little and she had to slow me down, after a while I used all four legs even when we were going at a fast walk.

My mom noticed that I walk comfortably on the street or sidewalk.

My parents are going to keep their eyes on me and watch me closely and patiently. They are also going to keep taking me on long walks with a quick pace. And they are going to throw me the ball in our back yard and watch me run after it and see how I do sprinting.

I’m happy to get all this training; it’s lots of fun but it’s no substitute for the real thing.  My urge to run again is still alive and well.

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.

Later in the morning one of the technicians brought me back outside to the lobby, where my mom was waiting for me. When she saw me she really exclaimed “Hi Puppy! Hi Joey!”  It seems like it had been so long.

see the new friend I made!

She and my technician talked for a while, and then another technician came over and gave me a big pet. Then another technician came over and said, “Joey, are you going home?” She too gave me a big pet.

I still don’t know why I was in the animal medical center but I am very tired. I am tired because it was exciting to be there, I was kept busy and stimulated, and I am tired because the doctors took a lot of tests. The tests weren’t bad; each time I was brought into the medical part of the building, I would hear “Is that Joey?” and people would come over to greet me. That was a lot of fun for me.

This morning when we were headed toward the large glass doors, my mom said “Joey, sit” and I remembered and sat. I could see another dog outside and I wanted to be there with this dog. But I was good and stayed. Then she said “Good boy” and petted me and then she said “Joey, come!” and we continued out through the big doors, though by then that dog had left, and into our car.

In the beginning of the ride I was excited to feel the wind on my face but then tiredness overcame me.

Now I’m back home.

My mom can see that I need some sleep so I’m going to just lie here by her feet and sleep.  The sun is shining:  Maybe later on we will go outside and she will give me an opportunity to lay in the warm grass and watch the other animals that live in our neighborhood. Then Dad will come home from work and we will take a walk together, maybe even the three of us!

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

The other morning, bright and early, my mom drove me over to the big and now familiar animal hospital. Once inside, a few technicians came and got me and one of them took my lead and out we went!  My mom said “Bye, Joey!  See you in a few days!” and off I went with the technicians.  For the last 5 days I’ve had a great opportunity to make friends here in this little place.

Things were just fine, I started making new friends.  This is a nice section of the medical center where I have my own space.  But today the a doctor came over to examine me and take some tests on me.  Dr. T, who is really nice and gentle with me, took my blood pressure and also took a blood test. When I was having my blood pressure taken, people came over and said “Is that Joey?”  They were really happy to see me after a long while and I was happy to see them too.

I’m not sure what’s going on and my parents haven’t come yet to pick me up so I’m just going to go along with the flow.

I’d say that I wish someone would tell me what’s going on, but I probably wouldn’t understand anyway. In the meanwhile, I’ll just make friends with the other dogs and the doctors, technicians and volunteers, something I’m good at doing.

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

No sooner had we arrived home from the animal medical center than my parents uttered that golden word, “Walk”.

What they actually said was Let’s take Joey for a walk but only “walk” echoed in my ears.  Or maybe I heard the double golden words  “Joey” and “walk” but I got the message, special delivery.

This was big. I danced in place with high expectations.

It was early in the afternoon, the day was gleaming with opportunity.  Dad got the little poop bag,  mom got the lead and put it on me and opened the front door. Out we went.

My mom handed the lead to my dad, who led the way. Or maybe I led the way.  Somehow we ended up walking toward the big wide  street where I had been hit by the car. They liked walking in this direction because the wide green strip of park between the avenue and the carriage lane gave me something soft to walk on.

Once there, I attempted to move quickly, picking up the scent of another dog.

I was also slowed down by the lead, since my dad wanted to keep me at a slow pace.  My parents kept looking at me, talking about me, the whole time.  Looking at me and talking about me. Joey this, Joey that. Phil kept saying that we could go a little further and that I seemed to be doing fine. He’s doing fine he said. He’s got to learn to walk again with that leg.

Jane said something about overdoing it on the first day, whatever that meant.  It went something like We shouldn’t overdo it on the first day. I was perfectly happy to overdo it.

Then I heard those words - That’s enough – and we turned to head toward home. Still, I kept my eager nose to the ground.

Back home, Jane got me breakfast – even though it was afternoon. She didn’t have to tell me to eat or to drink; I drank  the full bowl of water and ate the full bowl of food with gusto, even with the glucosamine and condroiten, and then fell, exhausted and contented, onto my bed.

That was it!

Since I had eaten a late breakfast, I actually got one more walk in that outstanding day.   It was a short walk but it was a true walk.

The first of many!

And I needed to be able to walk well if I was going to run again. But for the record, tonight I was satisfied.

It’s impossible to describe what I felt at that moment. It’s impossible to describe what was going through my mind, standing there in the doctor’s examining room.

I’d spent so much of my life running, playing, catching balls that my parents tossed me, throwing balls up in the air and catching them, swimming in the lake with my mom, enjoying and living life. I’d run up and down the basement stairs, catching the ball my parents would throw down and racing back up to the kitchen in the blink of an eye to bring it to them, only to play the game again.  I’d run miles and miles one morning and hiked up and down big hills in the afternoon. Countless times I’d jumped onto the sofa (when my parents weren’t home) and then jumped off again as soon as I heard the key in the front door. I have been strong enough to dig large holes in the ground, pulling out large rocks and then pushing them of my way.

Not long ago I even was strong and confident enough to dig a long tunnel under the fence in our back yard that led to the wide and open world of dogs.

And yet here I was, a full-grown adult dog, standing on all four legs, and still acting like a new-born pup trying to stand up for the first time in his life.

Three feet worked great but one foot shook.  Three legs were strong and steady and one leg was weak and shaky. The paws of three legs were tough and firm and the paws of my fourth leg were tender and sore.

I stood in the middle of the room unsure of what to do.  Or even how to stand. Do I rest my weight on the front of my toes, like I used to? Or do I allow the back of my unsteady foot to support my weight? What if the front of my foot is not bending like in my other feet?

Jane got down on her hands and knees and started looking at my paws and my foot from very close up, almost like she had done the time she came to visit me in my pen in the Critical Care Unit. She looked and looked at how my injured foot was different from the other rear foot. She looked – but she didn’t touch.

Just like always, she asked a lot of questions.  She asked the doctor if she could give me a bath and the doctor said to wait one week because my sores needed to be exposed to the dry air to heal more.

The big gasp came when my parents asked the doctor when I needed to come back for another visit and the doctor said that my parents didn’t need to bring me back for any more visits.  This was it, she said.  This news was like a chicken dinner and a visit from the FedEx man and a visit from the mail carrier bringing me a treat all in one.  Some cloud over my parents’ head lifted and everybody was shaking hands, smiling, saying "thank you" and "oh that’s great" and all sorts of happy stuff. It seems that they had forgotten all about me!

And then the door to the examination room opened.  It was time to leave, to say goodbye and walk out.  My dad put the lead back on me.  The muscles of my three feet and legs carried me confidently but the muscles of my fourth foot and leg moved awkwardly. In the past when I walked in the animal hospital I always pulled whoever was at the other end of the lead but today was different: I was anxious to move quickly, but I felt very wobbly. The floors of the hospital were very smooth and I was slipping and sliding every time I put down my fourth and injured leg to take a step.

While my mom went to buy me more dog food, my dad directed me down the long hall and into the large and open hospital lobby, past the two children waiting for the doctor to bring them back their dog who had eaten a corn cob, past the "Dogs" waiting room and its "Cats" waiting room off to the side along the large and open picture window, .   We walked past everything and everyone, past their smiles and nodding heads.

The large glass automatic doors of the hospital opened to an intense splash of sunshine.  My dad and I weren’t running – yet – but we were walking, together, all six legs of us.

At the animal hospital, things started out like usual.

First we stood in the "Check in" line.  Then my parents and I went to the "Dogs" section of the waiting room (which was next to the "Cats" section of the waiting room).  The hospital was not particularly busy this morning, that is, not too many dogs were hanging around the hospital lobby,  but still I was happy to be there and I let everybody know how happy I was.

Soon, my doctor came out and met my parents. She wanted to know if I needed to be put to sleep in order to have me sit still while the x-rays were being taken.  My parents said that I did not. Then my mom showed the doctor how to say "Joey, sit" so that I would just sit however and wherever the doctor wanted me to sit. My mom also told her not to say "Good dog" because if she said that, I would probably start wagging my tail and kissing the doctors and then they couldn’t get the x-rays they wanted.

What happened in the radiology room and the examination room I am going to keep a big secret.

But I am going to tell you that the doctor did not put the bandages back on my leg after the x-rays.  In fact, she let me walk out of the room on my own four legs with no support from bandages or splints.  I cannot tell you how it felt to be free and to walk on my own.

The surgeon and I walked out to where my parents were waiting for us. They saw my injured leg, bare, a little wobbly and unsteady – but there in full view and me walking on all my paws.  I am pretty sure they were very happy.

Soon, my parents, my doctor and I went into a small room and the doctor put these pictures up on the wall, turned on one light and turned out the other light. She showed my parents the x-rays of my toes and ankle. She showed my parents where the plate and screws and pins were in my ankle and where my ankle looked like a tool chest. She showed them the x-ray that showed where my toes had been broken 12 weeks ago and then showed them the x-rays taken today and where my bones were starting to fuse together. She showed them where my body was creating new bone mass in my toes. She told them that even though I’m an older dog, my bones are healing very well.

Then the room lights went back on.

The doctor and my parents talked and talked and talked, just like they had done with Dr. B eleven weeks earlier.

Often when I am in the examination room and talking is going on all around me, I walk over to the door and keep my nose to the door to grab the scents and listen to the sounds of the other animals and patients in the hospital.I stood in the middle of the room, silently.  This day was different.  While they were talking and talking, I was just happy to be free and standing on my four legs without any help from anyone or anything.  I was happy to be a good dog with a good doctor!

Please now read my next post for that day.