This is Buddy. My handicapped, handicapable, down dog, hell on wheels, turn and burn, happy damn dog. I rescued him when he was two. Longer story (search archives) but he has been through a lot. After loving him for four years, he blew out a disc at age six. He cried out in pain and that was it. His lower half would be forever numb.
He was very independent, active, athletic, smart, determined, happy, driven, and a lovable dog. And he still is, even more so now. It took time to adjust. Two months for him to be OK with a wheelchair and wearing diapers. It took me a lot longer. I held out hope. Tried it all. I was exhausted. Then one day I accepted his fate as he did.
Suddenly my most independent of four dogs was the most dependent. He could not go outside without me (can't get through doggie door). Had to be watched. At first hand fed, and trained all over again (how to use wheelchair, ramps, wait, move, crawl, turn over, eat, hold still for diaper duty, etc). His eyes search for me everywhere, all the time. It has been 4 years. Before he never paid a lot of attention to my whereabouts. Now he keeps one eye open even when I think he is sleeping. he literally watches my every move.
The vets told me his personality would change. He became a lot more dependent and dare I say "needy". He would cry out when his diaper was wet or smelled for a change. He barks when he wants up on bed or couch even I do not notice "the nod", where he tilts his head up as a child would do to be picked up. And he barks when he wants to get down or me to bring him water. Buddy hated to be held or picked up. After a few weeks, he had to let go. Trust me to hold him and place him in his wheelchair. My saving grace was that boy did he love his wheelchair. It meant he could GO. Freedom. Zoom Zoom.
At first all he could do was scoot around. Very slow. Very low. Painful to watch. But it didn't seem to hurt his pride. He thought he was still a bad ass. Chase balls. Chase dogs. Chase visitors. Then I put him into his new wheels after he had a chance to heal a bit, and he took off and has never looked back...except to look for me. And I was always watching over him like a worried but proud mom. I want him to have the best things and the best life possible.
We now share a bond I can't quite describe. I was told he might not survive. I was told I should "put him down". I was with him every step of the way. Frightened of the unknown. Forgetting he had special needs. It was a new world for us both. He now needed basically full-time care like an infant....constantly changing diapers, wiping him, bathing him in sink, keeping him warm, giving physical therapy, building handicapped ramps and barriers as needed, and finding new ways to do things.
We kept our normal. Car rides. Boat rides. Daily walks. Running around yard 15 times a day. He is a beautiful dog. The happiest and most well adjusted of all four. But he needs me to do it all- help him pee, poo, clean him, put him in a chair to run, open the door, get on furniture, and watch him for flips/falls/stuck situations. And when you hold a sick dog, watch him fight back, beat the odds, and hold his head up with pride as he struts by in diapers and a wheelchair, you just KNOW there is something special there.
We have a bond. He needs me except when he sleeps. If he wakes up, I must cover him (used to do that himself). And we do it each day, every day, for the rest of his life. Down dogs (vet term) get a lot of UTIs, thus I am always giving him antibiotics to make him better and somehow he knows. This also means a shortened lifespan as he can become immune to the antibiotics. It is hard to describe because you have a closer connection with a wheelchair dog. Dare I say a deeper love? It is a labor of love, that is to be sure, but it is also a thing of pure beauty. Care. Trust. Love. Concern. Protection. And kindness. I work every day to be a worthy mom.
