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.

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.

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.

On this morning, I didn’t wait around for Animal Control to arrive and put me in their van and bring me back home.  I didn’t wait with the other dogs while some nice person telephoned my home and let me stay with them in their home or in the park until my mom came and picked me up.  Even though my whole body, and in particular my leg, was hurting badly, I ran home, to the back of our home, and there I waited quietly, just outside the gate that opens to our backyard, just a few steps from the entrance to our home and kitchen. I knew that eventually my owner Jane would notice me sitting outside by the gate. So there I waited, patiently.

Time passed.

I then heard the sound of Jane opening the door to the deck on the 2nd floor to see the glorious morning unfold before her eyes and to call “Joey! Joey, come!” I followed her eyes as, standing on the deck, she looked past me and toward my usual spot, under the apple tree – and just saw grass and the apple tree. I then followed her eyes as she turned her eyes downward, saw me there below, and said “Joey, why are you on the wrong side of the fence?” I didn’t answer her question, but she figured out that something wasn’t right.  I could hear her thinking.

She immediately left the deck and ran downstairs, opened the rear outside door, opened the gate, saw me wounded, and brought me into the “in” side of the gate, and closed the gate. Then she went inside and picked up the telephone. My owners are wonderfully organized and we have the telephone number for our veterinary hospital on a magnet on the refrigerator (close to the telephone number of Animal Control.)  So right away my mom Jane called our veterinary hospital where I have all my check ups and teeth cleanings and shots, and told them that there was an emergency “with Joey” and that she was bringing me over there. And that’s what she did.

She drove the car to the back of the home and opened the rear door.  She wrapped a towel around my chest and belly, then lifted me up, trying to avoid all the areas where I was wounded, which was difficult, and put me in the back sea of the car, which is a pretty big deal, since I weigh 80 pounds.

I didn’t tell her exactly what had happened to me.  All the way to the animal hospital, she was wondering what had occurred, and I remained speechless.

When Jane and Phil and I are outside our home, they have consistently told me to not run into the street, and have done so much to make sure that I do as they say. This has become a problem once or twice when Phil comes home from work and Jane opens the front door to let me run out to him and say “Hello” and I get so excited (and mindless, they would say) that I dart for the street in my abundant joy.  My staying within our property boundary is largely why they installed the fence around our property. In addition, when my parents and I go outside, they keep me on a leash so that I cannot run into the street on my own. Sometimes when we are walking together and we reach a street corner, Phil will say “Sit”, and we remain there until he says “Okay.”

But on this particular beautiful morning, when the sky was bright blue and the air smelled fresh and clean and the morning sunlight was upon me and I could smell the scent of neighboring dogs, all that was meaningless to me. I didn’t care about their warnings.  I wanted to enjoy running and being free and making friends with the other dogs in my neighborhood who were also outside. These are three of my favorite things, and that’s all I cared about. Besides, Dad hadn’t taken me running that morning and I had energy waiting, just screaming, to be released.  And nobody was looking at me, even better. So I set about my work. I started following the scents of other dogs.

I slowly walked up to the beautiful carriage path where some cars drive but many people jog, walk, bicycle, and walk their dogs.  Very good. I had seen some other dogs being walked by their owners along the carriage path and being friendly and I wanted to play with them.  Another person was there walking her dog and, seeing me off-leash and interacting with other dogs, decided to try to grab me by my collar and see where I lived and bring me home. That was when I decided to run in exactly the opposite direction from her. Exactly the opposite direction happened to be into the middle of a 4-lane street.

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.

And then, the next thing I knew, I was in a lot of pain and I let out a big cry.

Immediately, people who were walking their own dogs along the pedestrian path were trying to look at the name tag on my collar to find out where I lived and the telephone number to call. The person in the car started to cry.  The sanitation workers, who were driving by during their route, stopped to see how they could help.  One person on the pedestrian pathway got out her cell phone. I think she was trying to call Animal Control.

I know Animal Control very well; they are my friends. Every once in a while when I escape, Animal Control brings me back home. They’re really nice. Officer O’Connell is one of my favorites from Animal Control.

But on this day I didn’t stick around long enough to see my friend Officer O’Connell.