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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This new splint is a little shorter than the old one, giving me more movement in my knee, but still keeping my toes and ankle immobilized so they can continue to heal. And the new color is, according to Jane, “mango”.  Orange is a color that I, a dog, can actually see.

Dr. M seemed pretty happy, Jane seemed pretty happy, and Phil, whom Jane used her cell phone to call, seemed pretty happy. Me, I just wanted to get up and run around again. I wanted to see and play with the other patients.

But here you can see my mango bandages, which, as I’ve said, is a color that I, a dog, can see.

The next thing that happened was that Jane and the technician were holding me steady on the floor, and Dr. M. was taking off my old splint. Then he made me a new one.  It was important that everything be clean and sanitary. This new splint is a little shorter than the old one, giving me more movement in my knee, but still keeping my toes and ankle immobilized so they can continue to heal. And the new color is, according to Jane, “mango”.  Orange is a color that I, a dog, can actually see.

He seemed pretty happy, Jane seemed pretty happy, and Phil, whom Jane used her cell phone to call, seemed pretty happy. Me, I just wanted to get up and run around again. I wanted freedom of movement, that’s all.

But here you can see my mango bandages, which, as I’ve said, is a color that I, a dog, can see.