The basement one was the easiest to obtain my used tissues because there I had a lot of privacy and because the carpeting absorbed the sound of my walking. If the door to the basement was open at all, I could just push it open a little more and go down the stairs, over to the corner of the room, and pull out used tissues without anybody knowing where I was.  If I was walking around on the 2nd floor my parents could hear my footsteps and rush up and intercept.

I did my business with the tissue right there, and left. That is, I left the tissue, the evidence, on the floor beside the basket.

When my Dad would see it laying there, he would have a fit.

It’s not like I didn’t know what I was doing.  If I was in the middle of my crime and Dad or Mom came home, I would beat my tail behind me in small and rapid whipping-like motions and slink my way upstairs or downstairs. They knew, even before they saw the evidence.

One day I came home and there was a change, an extreme change, to our home in three places.

My parents are pretty smart. I’m going to just have to accept this for the moment or to try to find another source of used tissues. But of this I’m sure: If there is another source of used tissues, I will find it!

***

Into the hospital we went, and waited. There was one dog in the “Dogs” section who was really nice – until he started barking at me.  And that ended our budding friendship.  Mom took me away, and then decided to try friendship again with him, and again he started acting friendly, and then barked at me again. So that did it for good.

My hope was to find another friend, or another doctor to make friends with, and soon I found one. A doctor, that is. Mom and I followed her into a little room, where I usually get lots of attention. But this time it was a real washout. Mom and the doctor talked, and talked, and talked, and talked. I had to obtain some attention for myself after a while, but it wasn’t sustaining. And then they kept talking. What a waste.  I could have been having a really good time all the while they were talking.

So here is my animal nutritionist with me.

Before I went to the animal nutritionist my mom was feeding me chicken and rice three times a day, with some occasional squash. After I went to the animal nutritionist, my mom was giving me dry kibble two times a day.

I really don’t see what was to gain by seeing this animal nutritionist. Can anybody give me some sympathy, please?

Was there a point to my having to come out of the car, when my bed was inside the car?

Eventually my parents let me back into the car with my bed.

And that began my overnight(s) adventure at the home of my Labrador Retriever friend Jenny, with her big family.

I’m still a bit confused about the part where my parents walked outside our friends’ home onto their porch and didn’t let me follow; and then stood outside our friends’ front door and  faced me, inside the home, my not understanding why the front door was closing little by little on me, and said “Bye, Joey. We love you. We’ll see you soon” and then the front door closed completely between them and me.  But that’s okay.

And just like my parents do in their home, in the evenings my friends placed my bed at the foot of their bed, and how well I slept.

Occasionally during the day I slept on my friend Jenny’s bed and made her sleep on the sofa. But that’s okay. Those are the rules!

***

I look pretty bad here. What’s worse is how I felt. I couldn’t run, I could barely walk, my parents thought I was dying. And I guess I was. I felt sick as a dog, and I was. My mom wanted me to see my favorite doctor in the world, but she wasn’t there. So I saw the next doctor, then another, and finally I ended up where I should have started out, with my favorite doctor in the world (aside from Dr. Kiko, but I saw him too), who was now back from being away, and my favorite doctor in the world figured out all my problems and made my parents very very happy.

And I’m no longer as sick as a dog.

Here in this photo you can see my shoulder bones, you can see my vertebrae, you can see my sits bones and you can see my hips, bone by bone. You can see my skin flapping around. That’s when my mom said “enough.” Or maybe she said, “This is ridiculous.”

A while back, when my mom took me for a checkup, she noticed that I was losing weight but that doctor didn’t think that was important; he said “He has arthritis and it’s good to carry less weight.” He missed the sign. Then my mom took me back a while later and the next doctor missed the sign too. But my mom kept worrying about me and knew that the doctors were wrong.

So what was the problem?

The good news is that my favorite doctor in the world has me on an antibiotic and I’m gaining weight and you can’t see my bones bone by bone or my skin rolling off of me any more!

And, yes everybody, I’m able to run again!!!

Yesterday she took me to Cat Rock Park. It was a nice day. I got to run and toss myself about, gayly and there were a lot of other dogs there and we really galavanted about, swimming and socializing.  but have I had my final run?

Dad doesn’t run with me any more.  After a while I just can’t make it up that big long hill any more.

Dad even stopped taking me out running.

My parents can remember a time when if I didn’t have anything to do, I would always find or make something to do. If I was outside, I would try to get out of the yard, or find a ball somewhere and have myself a nice time, and I think the ball was enjoying being tossed around, chewed, rolled around, too.  If I was inside, I would try to find that ball, too. There was rarely a dull moment for me.  Okay, okay. After I was hit by the car I definitely slowed down. And then a month ago my new doctor told my parents to give me Previcox every day for my arthritis and elbow dysplasia.

The problem as my parents saw it is that I was sleeping a bit too much. “He’s really sleeping a lot,” Dad said.

“Yes, he’s getting older.”

“Yes, but this is a lot more sleeping; it’s like he’s dropping off a cliff or something.”

Then Mom noticed that in the morning, when she would go downstairs, I wouldn’t even follow her down.  “Joey,  Joey!  What’s going on? Come downstairs!  Come!  Come!” and maybe a minute or two later I would stretch and stretch and make my way, one step at a time, downstairs to the kitchen. “Joey, what’s the matter? You usually follow me everywhere. Now I have to call you to come follow me around.”

At some point one of my parents said, “Maybe it’s his medication. Ever since we started giving him one a day Previcox, he’s been sleeping like this.”  And they stopped giving me the pill in the morning.

And then Dad went away, suitcases and all.

But instead of being all depressed, I started feeling better, and more energetic.  Mom was so certain that it was the medication that she took me over to the doctor’s.  He asked, “Has he also lost his appetite?”  When Mom said “NO”, he said that it’s the first time he’s ever seen a dog lethartic on Previcox but not lose his appetite.

When Dad came back home, suitcases and all, he said, “It’s my Joey again.”  While Dad hasn’t take me out running, my Mom has, for a block or two, at a time. And it’s fun again.

I’m really glad my parents know me well.   And it’s good to be me again!!

***

They noticed when I tried to jump up on the bed my rear feet lost their footing on the flooring, and I slipped. I tried to make nothing of it, and to make another attempt to jump up on the bed, this time successful. Another time my legs slipped out from under me, and I was quite too nervous to attempt it again.  My parents, who were there at the time, urged me to try again. “Come on, Joey! Jump up! Jump up!! Up up up!” they said, not wanting me to give up and give in to my newfound fear of doing something I’d done without a second thought for all of my life. They wouldn’t let me give up, my parents!

Another time I headed up the stairs from the first floor to the next floor and my rear feet slipped and my legs gave out from under me. Again I tried to make nothing of it, and to make another attempt at ascending the stairs, this time successful. But this happened several times.

Yesterday I found a surprise in a box. I could smell the box that it was for me.  My mom opened it up and many things came out of it, and soon she was working away, like usual, by the stairs. When she was finished, she said, “Joey come!” I did, and she said, “Joey, up!” I walked to the foot of the stairs, positioned my self, and walked up. At the top, she said, “Joey, come! Down, down the stairs!” and I came down to her.  Here I am modeling how I start out: Two feet on the floor, one front foot on the first step and another front foot actually moving for the second step:

Such a nice surprise, for me, and I went up and down and up and down, and it was so soft on my feet and legs and bones.

Here I am, one hind leg on the second step, one hind leg leaving the first step, one front foot on the third step and one front foot about to land on the fourth step (got that?):

And to tell you the truth, I think my parents like this surprise for themselves as well… I think I noticed them going up and down the stairs a little more than usual…

We can talk about just waiting in the waiting room or bump it up a notch to being in the examination room, or having some procedure done. I’ve seen many dogs hang out behind their parents’ legs in the animal hospital waiting rooms; I’ve tried to make friends with many of these dogs, to calm them down and offer friendship, but they’re just frozen in fear.

I’m on the cool dude side.  When I had my injuries from being hit by the car, I had to have surgery, and xrays taken, and all sorts of procedures done on  me, including having my bandages changed regularly, and my wounds cleaned.  The doctors would ask my mom, “Does he need to be knocked out?” and except for actual surgery, and dental surgery, no, I didn’t.

It helped to have somebody just petting my head and saying “Good boy, Joey” and for splint changes I would need two technicians (my mom counted as “one”) but together we made it through everything, no “puppy’s little helper” required.

But many other dogs do. They have to take anything from a “calm down” pill to having an injection.

Let’s talk about this.

Do you think there’s a difference between how small and large dogs handle this?

Dogs who have been surgically “altered” and those who have not?

I am waiting to hear from you.

***

I’m interested in the food around her, the smells in the kitchen.

“Joey, you’re an old dog.  Old dog.” That’s what she says.  “At least you could go get a ball and play with it. Go get a ball and I’ll throw it to you.“  I’m not interested, not now, at any rate. I’d rather just hang around, just stand around.

“Old dog, Joey.  You’re an old dog.”

It’s a good thing I don’t know what she’s saying.

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.

Now of course my mom answers, “Joey’s writing the blog.”

And why couldn’t a dog write a blog?  Why do people ask my mom this question?

The bottom line (and I know a lot about that) is that this blog reflects my point of view. Right? And nobody  knows my point of view better than me.

So when people ask my mom that silly question, I just keep quiet.

I ask you, “Can a dog write a blog?”

Reflection and Contemplation a Necessary Part of Creative Writing

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.

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.

along the route to FREEDOM

I had a really nice walk today. I took a walk through history.  My mom took me to a place – well, the name doesn’t mean much to me but it meant a lot to my mom.

“Joey, this is the Jackson Homestead.  It was a stop along the Underground Railroad.”

I didn’t ask, “What’s the Underground Railroad?” but if I had, she would have been very surprised. And then she would have answered, “The Underground Railroad was the route that escaped slaves took on their road to freedom.  Many times people opened their homes to escaped slaves, and the William Jackson family, in our town, was one such family and one such place.”

Now that’s something I understand: FREEDOM.

Today this home is a museum that you can visit. But me?  I can stay outside, and that’s fine with me.

***

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. He stopped moving. My mom picked him up and she cried and cried.

Mickey wasn’t around our home anymore after that 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?

[flv:http://www.dogsdontlookbothways.com/joeys_blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/Joey_dreaming.swf 480 360]

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!

So then my mom asked, “What’s your dog’s name?” and he said “Honey”.  Honey is a Welsh Corgi.

Getting back to this day, this day was different from any day I had before.  The man  and my mom and I all went into the office. My mom and I went over to the desk and computer, and my mom said “Joey, sit” and that’s what I did – for a while.  I looked at him a lot.  I was also pretty interested in this man because I could smell his dog all over him! So after a while I got up and moved around. But again and again my mom said “Joey, sit” and so I did, and then the nice man said, “Joey!” and I looked at him and his big camera and this man said “Good boy” and so on. And so on.

The man was pretty relaxed and I was pretty relaxed. But I was also interested in the treats that were in the little cup in his hand. You can see my ears: They are paying attention to those treats.

And so it went!  When this man was leaving our home, he said, “Joey, sit” and he took more photographs of me standing by our front door. He’s a nice man and I was very relaxed for him.  And that is unusual for me to sit still for so long and to look straight ahead into a little box that doesn’t smell like a treat. Usually I look up, or down, or to one side, or to the other.

Then the man left our home and another man came!  This man and my mom sat in the kitchen and talked for a long time. He was nice also.  I was relaxing for a while in my bed in the dining room, right by the kitchen, while they talked. But I liked this man. And so – I brought my ball into the kitchen and started showing him that I wanted him to play ball with me. I wanted to be his friend and I wanted him to be my friend.

I think he is my friend, even though we didn’t play ball. But still, he was very nice.

And then my mom said, “Joey, you’re going to be in the newspaper!” although I didn’t know what she was talking about.

And then she gave me the treats that had been in the little cup.

The rest of the day wasn’t so interesting. But I’m not complaining!

***

You can read the article in the Newton Tab about Joey here!

And Joey would be happy to meet Mark the photographer and Dan the writer again, and also to meet Honey!

Joey also appeared as a “cover dog” the following week, in the Daily News Tribune, the following week, with Joey as the cover photo and article!

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.

My mom has been taking me all over our town of Newton since I got better. I like riding in the car but many times we walk, which I really love.  Right before we reach the center of town, we pass the place where Samuel Francis Smith used to live*, and there is a stone there that marks the spot, something I know a lot about. Who is Samuel Francis Smith? He is the man who wrote the lyrics to the song America, also known as My Country Tis of Thee. And he lived in the home right on the spot where I am sitting!

My mom included the words to this song here:

1. My country,’ tis of thee,
sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing;
land where my fathers died,
land of the pilgrims’ pride,
from every mountainside let freedom ring!

2. My native country, thee,
land of the noble free, thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
thy woods and templed hills;
my heart with rapture thrills, like that above.

3. Let music swell the breeze,
and ring from all the trees sweet freedom’s song;
let mortal tongues awake;
let all that breathe partake;
let rocks their silence break, the sound prolong.

4. Our fathers’ God, to thee,
author of liberty, to thee we sing;
long may our land be bright
with freedom’s holy light;
protect us by thy might, great God, our King.

I like when he writes about the hills, and the rocks, and the breeze, and the trees, though I don’t know what a rill is. But this is an important place in our town!

*****

* 1181 Centre Street, Newton Centre

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!

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

Good communication with your dog’s veterinarian can give you some guidelines. But as always, observe your dog carefully and notice and pay attention to everything, and use that as a guide.

***

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!

*******

***

It was another one of those surprise days.  Jane gets me ready to go outside. I’m excited. It doesn’t matter where we’re going. It matters that we ARE going.

We ride and ride and then get out of the car.  I’m on the lead and I seem to know what direction to go in. It’s the direction where I smell dogs. This is a very large place. There are ducks in the water but I don’t care. I care about the smells in ground, and the dogs that pass by me, each one on a lead with his or her mom or dad.

Most parents are really nice and give us a chance to acknowledge each other and decide if we want to be friends or not.   This dog wanted to be friends with me.

Sometimes even when we decide we want to be friends, our parents say “okay, that’s enough” and we move on.

Some dogs aren’t feeling very well and my mom doesn’t let me play with them.

We walk for a long long time and we are going around and around this large body of water.  I’m getting thirsty but only my mom notices that my tongue is hanging out and that I am hot and thirsty. I don’t notice.  I want to keep on going.  Mom mom notices, however, and after a long long time she decides it’s time to get back in the car. We go to the car where she has a treat waiting for me.  Good boy. Good mom!

This is another wonderful place in the world, another place that I have discovered!  That my mom has helped me to discover!

*****

When I still had the splint on my leg and I wasn’t allowed to see many people or make many new friends, when I had to always be on my lead when I was outside, I had a really lucky afternoon when a lot nice and friendly people came over to our home.

At the time, I didn’t understand why so many people were coming to our home.  Lots and lots of people came over!  And they were saying “How’s Joey?” They asked, “Can we see Joey?” and they let me spend some time with them.  I was really very happy about seeing my old friends.  Some of them I’d never met before.  I was really very happy about making new friends.

One new friend came over to our home: Setti.   My parents introduced me to Setti, too.  After a while, everybody went into the living room and sat down.  Setti talked, and people listened, then people talked, and Setti listened, then Setti talked, and people listened, and on and on it went like this for a long time. At one point, I heard somebody say “dog parks”.

Setti also was very nice to me!  Mom took this photo of me and my new friend, Setti.

If I were a person and could vote for Mayor of Newton, I would vote for Setti.  He was really nice to me, as you can see, even though I can’t vote, in fact I can’t even register to vote, and he made me feel better and happier at a time when I couldn’t go out and make new friends.  He was really nice to me and to everybody!

Setti is one of my new friends.

Here’s another of my new friends: Lorie. You can see how friendly and nice Lori is and dogs like me pick up on this right away!  Meet my new friend, Laurie!  Days and friends like this really make me want to get better and better and live my life!

*****

******

Here is my time line for my injury, when my x-rays were taken, my surgery on my broken ankle, my bandage changes, when my bandages were removed and when my splints were removed.  In general, my parents and my doctors made these decisions, not I.

Day 1: I was hit by the car and brought to the emergency room of the animal medical center.

Day 6: My parents pick me up from the animal medical center and bring me home.

Day 8: I go back to the local animal hospital for a bandage change and check-up.

Day 9: I am rushed to the local animal hospital when I start bleeding profusely from my lacerated penis. The doctors fix me up and send me to the big animal medical center.  I go home!  All is well.  (Except that from now on, the shades in the living room will be drawn and no children will be able to come over to our home . At least for a while.)

Week 2, Day 6: I go to the local animal hospital for a bandage change and check-up.

Week 2, Day 2: I return to the animal medical center for my “Day 9″ (counting from when I was allowed to go home) examination.

Week 4, Day 4: I go to my local animal hospital for a bandage change and a check-up.

Week 4, Day 7: I return to the animal medical center to see the surgeon.  He will decide whether or not I need surgery on my broken ankle. He also changes my splint. He decides I need surgery.

Week 5, Day 2: I go into the animal medical center for surgery on my broken ankle.

Week 5, Day 3: I have surgery on my broken ankle, though I’m asleep and don’t know what’s going on.

Week 5, Day 4: I go back home!

Week 7, Day 1: I go to the local animal hospital for a bandage change and a check-up.

Week 7, Day 4: It has been two weeks since my surgery on my broken ankle. I see the doctor again for an examination.  He is really happy with how my leg is healing, and I get to go right back home.

Week 8, Day 1: I have a bandage change at the animal medical center and get to meet new friends and dogs. This is an emergency visit; my parents have discovered I’m chewing at my splint and my bandages are wet.

Week 9, Day 2: I have a bandage change at the animal medical center.  I get treats!  It has been 4 weeks since my surgery.

Week 10, Day 3: I go to the animal medical center for my bandage change.

Week 10, Day 4: I go back to the animal medical center when my parents discover I’ve been chewing on my splint and my bandages are wet.

Week 11, Day 4: It has been six weeks since my surgery!  I go back to the animal medical center for another bandage change, and to make friends with some new animal friends.  I get treats!

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!

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!

There were a few other times when I had to go to the animal medical center for bandages changes – when my parents found me chewing on my bandages and splints.

Part 2: My next time line tells do’s and don’ts and may and may not’s for my aftercare.

*******

Bruno was injured – well, he’s not telling anybody how he was injured. He’s not even telling me how he was injured! Just like I didn’t tell anybody how I escaped from our back yard.  (Still to this day my parents think they know, but they aren’t completely sure.)

So getting back to Bruno, his mom came home one day and found him limping. She did the right thing and took him to the doctor. He’d somehow broken his own leg!  Jumping off something, one would think.

Here is Bruno, sleeping! He’s in his sanctuary, here where he will heal…and not be jumping off of anything…Maybe! It looks like Bruno has his sister there to keep him company, a friend and sister who has her own sanctuary too! Bruno also has a nice soft comfy bed…in his cage.  Perfect! And also great to rest his injured arm on.

It’s hard to know what Bruno is dreaming about. Probably something that he loves very much, something that he wants to do again, and soon, as soon as he gets better.

Bruno was supposed to have his splint on for five weeks. But three weeks after the splint was put on, his mom noticed that something was bothering him and she did the right thing again and took him back to the veterinarian. The vet discovered that the splint was hurting Bruno and that Bruno had some sores on his skin.  And then the vet took off the splint.  The air will help to heal Bruno’s sores.

I hope you get better soon, Bruno! I hope you like your doctor, and I hope that you get better.

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

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!

*******

Running with my dad in the early morning hours has been my life! I used to run with him for over an hour.  Since I was hit by the car, even after I’ve been running every day or every other day, I am pretty tired after 20 minutes. And my Dad knows this. After we go around the pond and are heading back up the big hill, I can hear him saying “Joey, you can do it. Come on. You can do it!“  Before I was hit by the car, he never had to say that to me.  I would go and go and go. So once we get to the top of the hill, we turn off of the carriage path and Dad runs me back home.  But still, I love running and I love my dad and I love running with my dad – any amount of time. Nothing could be better!

After our run, I wait and see what gems my mom is going to offer me on this day. Will I be able to go outside for walks? Will I spend time in the glow of the sunlight in the back yard while my mom does things outside that I don’t understand? Will I ride in the back seat of the car as she goes from place to place?

Sometimes the day unfolds to a place way beyond my imagination – to some land so close to my heart that I can just sing a song of nature.  Today was such a day.

As my mom and I walked down the path in this blessed woodland, I could almost hear the call of my father and his father and his father, champion hunters all.

*

A babbling stream called to me. My mom didn’t remind me that I’m supposed to be afraid of water. Instead, she said “Joey, gogogo” and sort of nudged me toward the water’s edge.  I walked right down and into the water, pulling her behind me.  She followed. I kept going and she stopped.

*

She watched me fearlessly go into the water.  She was a little nervous: She was wondering how my broken leg and broken foot were going to fare in this new untested and rocky ground, where the bottom wasn’t always visible.   She wanted to encourage me to feel free and comfortable and happy in the water – but didn’t want to encourage me to do something if it was going to be harmful. I jumped from rock to rock, making sure I was stable on one before I scouted out where to go next. My mom stopped and just watched me.  I was absorbed in my own world.  My world.

*

I went from rock to rock, across the knee-deep stream toward the other side and then across the rushing waters to the other side – and then felt the tug of my lead telling me I couldn’t go any further. My mom called. Then I went back across the water and from rock to rock again to where my mom stood and waited. Then suddenly we were crossing the rushing waters of the stream again, me first, and my mom following me every step of the way.

It’s hard to say what captivated me about the water. Were there smells in there that I could smell but she could not? Was it the sounds of the rushing water itself, hurrying to get somewhere?

I was still in the water but about to climb up the other bank and my mom was in the middle, struggling to get to my side, when a wonderful dog and his very nice master came walking along the path, and crossing the little bridge!

I discover Cody

I couldn’t figure out how to get to Cody fast enough.  Cody was on his lead and I was on mine and this was it, but still, I’m not complaining.

Once my mom gets out of the stream, Cody and I get nose to nose – and then it’s time to move on.  I’m okay with that. There are jewels in every step of this park and my mom is happy to just let me wander, explore, stop, smell, and delight.  Maybe the memories of my father, and my grandfather, and my great-grandfather, champion hunters all, are visiting her, too.

More to come!

********

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!

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

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.

*********

Some of you have been waiting to hear about my prostate thing, waiting to read the answer to my parents’ question on their page, to neuter or not to neuter. You’ve been waiting to hear about all the activity that took place when I was being boarded two months ago from my post, what’s a prostate? what’s enlarged? and what was the big deal between the doctor there and my parents.  You’ve asked if any of this has to do with my being hit by a car.  You’ve been waiting to hear about whether I’m going to remain the wonderful whole male that I am and have always been, or whether this state of glorious and holy wholeness is going to end.

My parents know me better than anybody else in the whole world and they think it’s time I told this story.

To be honest, I don’t understand anything about enlarged prostates, I don’t even know what a prostate gland is. Or a gland. I do know that different dogs have different odors, and that male dogs like me who are whole have a different scent from male dogs who are not, and that we dogs can detect the difference.  And I know that this is a factor amongst some dogs who are deciding whom to make friends with, and whom to not make friends with.

So with that said, we go back five months, to when I was hit by the car.

I’ve already written about my broken ankle, my broken toes, and my broken teeth. But one place I did not mention that got really badly injured was my penis.

Dr. Kiko thinks that what happened was that I was pushed down to the ground under the car, and my belly was scraped, and the prepuce, the skin that covers the penis, was pulled back and my penis was badly lacerated.  The cut went all the way around it, like a ring.

At the two animal hospitals where I was going, all of my wonderful doctors took really good care of me and my belly healed.

It took a lot longer for my penis to heal, however.  Every time I got excited this area filled up with blood and sometimes I was bleeding pretty badly.  Once, my parents even had to rush me to the emergency room. This need to keep me calm is why my parents didn’t allow visitors to our home for a long time.  This is also one of the reasons why they kept the shades drawn and our curtains closed. If I remained calm, I wouldn’t bleed. Keeping me calm is not easy, as you know.  I’m a very enthusiastic dog!

When my parents would walk me outside, we would see many children outside, playing, being strolled, roller skating, just being children enjoying life. But my parents would say “hello” and then keep me walking because I wasn’t allowed to get enthusiastic over anybody.

Soon enough, my penis healed well enough for my parents to allow visitors into our home and to allow me to play with children.  The shades went up, the curtains were opened, and daylight entered our home once again! Light entered my life again, too, in a big way.

With that, I will end my story for this evening, and you will be ready to read part 2, in which I will describe my visit to my local animal hospital.

But first, make sure you read my mom’s page, to neuter or not to neuter, where she explains all the things I cannot.

to part 2

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

“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?

But even though we don’t understand why you make us wear this collar, we are going to stay right by you.

(Especially if you have us on a lead all the time so we can’t roam free.)

We’ll even sleep in your bed…if you let us. If you were to let us. As you can tell, I’m not allowed on my parents’ bed.  Not even before I was injured did they let me up.  Not that I’m upset about this.  Not at all.  I’m not at all upset about the fact that just because I am a large dog my parents won’t let me up onto their bed.  Or even onto any of the sofas.  But last week, when my dad was away, somewhere called “out of town”, and my mom was on the sofa watching TV, I slowly and quietly got my front legs onto the sofa, then my rear legs onto the sofa, and lay down on a blanket right next to her. Her eyes met mine and I could hear her starting to form those words, “Joey, you’re not allowed on the sofa”  but no words came out.

I pretended not to hear the words she didn’t say. I pretended not to see the eyes that looked at mine.

Then she just let me stay right there. Exhale.  Timing is everything.

Now let’s get back to Luca and his health and happiness.  Luca wasn’t very happy going to the animal hospital on this day last week.  But he was very happy when his doctor took off the cast that covered his forearm, ankle and paw.

He wasn’t happy when he had to wear the cone. But he was very happy when he went back home. And he was very very happy when his mom made him a special meal of his favorite food.

So it’s just like that, when you’re a dog and you are injured and you are confused and your parents love you so much and want you to recover from your injury more than anything and they do a lot of things to rearrange their lives and home just for you.

With the cast now off, Luca’s parents have to apply antibiotic cream to Luca’s injured arm so it will continue to heal.  The dreaded cone is supposed to prevent Luca from licking the cream off, and also from licking his paw, so his paw can heal too.  When I had cream applied to my belly, I tried to lick it off.  And I often was successful!  I think that Luca is going to try to be successful at it, too.  So Luca’s parents are going to be looking at Luca a lot, watching him.  Watching and listening for that sound, the sound of licklicklick.

The air will help Luca’s skin to heal quickly. And the air will help his paw pads to regenerate from the infection he developed.  The air and the cream. And the collar.

Luca, I know that just as I don’t remember getting hit by the car, one day, when you’re swimming in your pool or running in the park, or joyfully kissing your mom’s face, you’ll forget that you ever had to wear that thing.

*******

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.

********

***

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!

*****

open-toed splint

I’d like to write a little about my splint. The splint has been off for a few months, but I’d like to write a little about it, and to show a picture of it up close.

First, this is a soft cast splint. It has a little more flexibility and is more comfortable to wear than a hard cast.

The splint was a very important part of my recovery, and so were the instructions about how to care for my splint.

The doctors left the toe open for several very important reasons. First, it allowed air to circulate. Second, it allowed my parents to look for signs of infection.  The doctors tell my parents that if they see my toes are inflamed, they know to get me to the doctor right away.

Another important part of the instructions is to notice if there is a bad odor. That is another sign of infection.  If my parents notice a bad odor, they know to get me to the doctor right away.

Finally, my parents are always looking at me to see if my bandages are wet. If they are wet, they have to bring me to the veterinarian right away.  Wet bandages is not a good thing. And this is another reason why I must wear the bootie or the plastic bag every time I go out, even if just for a moment.

Doctors are very concerned about my developing an infection.  I’ll just be a dog and do what I do, but my parents will be responsible for noticing all the signs of infection.

In the days and weeks immediately following my being hit by the car, my doctor wanted to change my bandages every 2 – 5 days. After that, after the sores were healed, he instructed my parents to bring me in for a bandage change every two weeks.

To find out whether I cooperated with my doctors’ good ideas, please continue reading!

*********

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

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

******

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.

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

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.

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

We did it!

The other day my dad got up early. He went running and I kept on sleeping. Then he came home and had some breakfast. Then he came and got me, “Joey, let’s go”, and took me out for my morning walk. We walked for a while.  Suddenly he sped up – and I sped up. And he sped up some more – and I sped up some more. And I was running!

It didn’t last long, maybe half a block, but it really happened.

That was it. All that day, he and my mom were looking at me walk to make sure I wasn’t limping.

Then my parents spoke to Dr. Cara. “How will we know that it’s okay to take Joey running?” they asked. Dr. Cara answered that it was time for me to start again: It had been 12 weeks since my surgery. She said to keep an eye on me and if my parents noticed anything unusual, to rest me for a day then try again.

The next morning, my Dad got up as usual and took his morning run – without me. I kept on sleeping. Then he came home, had his breakfast, and came and got me, “Joey, let’s go”, and got me for our walk. We walked until I was all warmed up. I get warmed up pretty quickly, though. Then suddenly he sped up, and I sped up. We ran for about one whole block. Then he slowed down and  I slowed down and we walked together for about one more block. Then he sped up and I sped up, and together we were running again! This continued for about one block.

Then he noticed it. I was hopping on three legs.

He again slowed down so that we were just walking. And we walked and walked – our way home.

Again all day my parents were looking at me. Was I using all four legs? Was I limping? Honestly my muscles were a little sore but I felt great. I slept a lot during the day.

It takes practice to do what comes naturally.

*********

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.

• It does not tug
• It distributes the pressure more evenly than a collar
• It doesn’t slip off like a collar does, and it allows the human handler to be on either side of the dog.

Harness are commonly used for dogs who are trackers. When bringing a new object home for your dog, it may be a good idea to allow another dog to have a good sniff at it first; that way your dog will smell the presence of another dog and the object will be more readily accepted.  There is a dog always hanging around our local dog shop and he’s always good to add a scent or two onto anything we purchase!

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!

***
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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.

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

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 explain to me what’s going on in a way that I would understand but I probably wouldn’t understand. 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 small light and turned out the other big 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.

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.

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!

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”.

8) 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!

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.

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.

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!

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.

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!

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.