The other stories

A year ago this July, Abe woke up one morning not putting any weight on his front left paw. My parents didn't understand what was wrong, so they took him on a sheet like a stretcher to our car and off to the vet. As I was curious to know what was wrong with him, my mom told me that the vet hadn't found anything after many tests and x-rays. this went on for awhile.... we had Abe take some pain pills everyday, as the limping continued. some days it was better than others, while at times he was in real pain. So our family decided to send Abe to a different vet to see if they had any idea what was wrong with our baby. They figured out that he had something wrong in his shoulder joint, but not sure what it could be. All that they did was put him on "joint therapy" which consisted of pain medications. This went on for a while, but we really saw no improvement, so the only choice we had was to call University of Illinois.
Abe

My mom, Stephanie called the veterinary clinic there, and the specialists said to bring him down there for a biopsy. For we live in Clarendon Hills (Hinsdale Area), this was a two and a half hour drive. Once Stephanie got there, Abe had a biopsy taken, and a few days later, we found out it was cancer. This cancer was one that only grew in his shoulder joint, and could not be removed. after many days of thinking, my parents decided we only had one choice that would make Abe survive... an amputation of his front left leg. No one wanted this to happen, we didn't know what to expect, but we all loved Abe with all of our hearts, even his welsh cardigan-corgi companion, Marty. So that week in February of 2005, Stephanie drove Abe down to Urbana, Illinois. Abe

When he got there, Abe received multiple ultrasounds just to make sure there wasn't cancer anywhere else. So Stephanie had to say good-bye to Abe with tears in her eyes, as Abe struggled to be with her. Courtney, my sister was there as well, knowing that she would be back in four days to see him. I was school, thinking about him, as was my brother Charlie. My dad, Tony at work, kept his thoughts about him as well.
We got calls everyday about Abe, how his surgery went, and how the poor guy was doing. He had his whole shoulder joint and leg removed, so he has no stump. I went to pick up Abe with Charlie, and my mom. I couldn't believe my eyes. Abe didn't really look different, except for the shaved spots, and the little shirt he wore to support his skin and staples. Abe was happy to be home, and was getting pretty used to his new lifestyle.
Abe today is doing amazing! People don't even realize he has a leg missing! He runs so swiftly and even swims. We all are so glad that we went forward with this surgery, because this dog means the world to us!

How I came to meet Cassie was by sheer luck and happenstance.
When I was five years old, my mother heard an announcement on the radio that a little poodle had been hit by a car and his hip had been shattered, and was at the local Humane Society because no owner had spoken up for him. He needed serious medical attention, and they were seeking a volunteer new owner to come forward. She cried upon hearing this, and we immediately went out there and claimed him, and took him to the vet. He was my best friend until he died of old age 10 or 12 years later. I never, ever thought I'd ever want to get another dog. I went another 10-12 years with no dog. I then got a job with the local TV station, working as a Production Assistant, going out on whatever video camera photo shoots they wanted me to do. As luck would have it, one day, they asked me to help them with video footage for the local Humane Society's "Pets for Adoption" PSA (Public Service Announcement).
Cassie relaxed

There is where I first met Cassie. She looked so pitiful, and with only 3 legs, nobody had wanted to adopt her. The Humane Society had kept her longer than any other dog because nobody there at the shelter had the heart to put her down. She had been owned by a KU student who, along with some members of his fraternity, had been playing frisbee with her across a busy street. She went running out in the street after the frisbee and was hit by a van. The Humane Society refused to give us the name or contact information of the previous owner, but I called every veterinarian in town to see who performed the operation and got the name and contact information of the previous owner from him.
I called the phone number and spoke with this boy. He told me he and some friends had found Cassie as a small puppy while walking in an alley behind a row of businesses downtown, that she was a stray. He told me how he and a bunch of his friends had felt so bad and responsible for her accident that everybody pitched in to help pay for the $1,200 surgery. Cassie runs

He said he took her to the Humane Society only because when he left to return home to another state, he couldn't take her; he had asked each of his friends whether they could take her, but none could, so he was forced to make the heartbreaking decision to leave her at the Humane Society and hope that someone would want to adopt her. She was there at the shelter for almost 8 months before I finally found her.
Cassie on the snow

The director in charge of the Humane Society told me that was about three times as long as they would normally keep a dog, before putting them down, if no one came forward to adopt them, but that she had really touched their heart and they couldn't possibly bear the thought of putting such a sweetie down, especially being crippled, and all. So, thank God, it turns out they had been keeping her, for us! And, for us to share, with everyone in the whole world! Had I never met Cassie, there would still be no club devoted to honoring 3-legged doggies from all around the world! She's really been a blessing to us and everyone!

Cassie's 3-legged Dog Club - http://people.ku.edu/~cadavis/

Muffin the Intrepid English Cocker Spaniel was a puppy mill 'survivor' whom I found in a "free to a good home" ad when he was 18 months old. He had demodectic (or "red mange") and he came with some 'medicine'. I knew nothing about demodex then.
I do rescue, and placed him in what I *thought* would be a good home but it turned out to be worse than the first one. At 21 months I confiscated him from this foolish woman -- she'd let his skin get SO bad he was literally bleeding and infected from every square inch of skin on his body. He had sand burrs imbedded deeply in his skin -- he was so sore and so sick he had literally given up the will to live and was ready to die.
Nope -- not an option with me!! LONG story made short I got him healing and embarked on a never-ceasing odyssey to get rid of the demodex. Along the way I learned a TON about demodectic mange and how to either get rid of it (if the animal is still in the developmental stages) OR how to manage it completely without toxic dips and medicines like Mitaban or Ivermectin. No -- I don't sell miracle drugs or dips or creams. But I'll give the info on how to boost their immune system and what to use to keep the skin clear and staph-free to anyone who wants it. (see here: http://www.critturs.com/mange.html).This isn't something someone should try to 'profit from'. There are dogs hurting out there!!!
In any event -- my intrepid buddy overcame demodex and we discovered en route that the thing that caused his to 'continue' was severe ear allergies that caused continuous hot spots and bacterial infections in his ears (which were genetically pre-disposed to be pits of infection -- thank you puppy mill!!). He had to have his ears removed (a process called an ear ablation). They literally surgically remove the inner, middle and 'outer' ear, including the ear canal -- yes, he's 100% stone deaf.
That doesn't stop Muffin -- not at all. He's learned about 35 'signs' that he responds to and I couldn't begin to tell you how much he lipreads. No problem -- Muffin's motto is "if you gotta do it to survive -- no problem -- DO IT!!"
That's not the end -- In June, 2002 my worst fears were realized when we found a "lump" near the end of his penis. A tiny bump the size of a pea. The vet aspirated it and it looked fine, but 'watch it'. It doubled in size in a week, the vet removed it and it was cancer. And no, they couldn't get "complete margins". Muffin give up and just roll over and die? NO WAY. I put him on a cancer home-cooked diet when I first found the bump. After finding out we didn't get 'clear margins' we chose to try chemotherapy -- it's not nearly as difficult for dogs as humans, but it's not cheap.
Muffin on his wagon

At the same time, knowing I might not have Muffin for very long, I decided it was time to put dreams into action. My husband and I have not been able to have children (our dogs ARE our children, so to speak). But Muffin absolutely LOVES children. He's drawn to them and loves them incredibly. I'd always thought that he would make a wonderful therapy dog. I had been taking all 3 of our dogs to a local Alzheimer's home for some time, but a facility like a hospital with children required "certification". After the cancer diagnosis I became convinced that Muffin needed to get certified so that for however long he had, he could help the children he loved, and particularly children with cancer with whom he would have so much in common. Muffin, altho a bit stubborn and nose-driven as most any cocker spaniel is, breezed through his Canine Good Citizen test. I'm a bit handicapped with arthritis myself, so I looked around for a certifying group that would be interested in both Muffin AND me, and one that would work with me on equirements since because Muffin is deaf he requires touch commands and hand signals, and because I can't stand or walk quickly for the human part of the equation.
We became certified thru Bright and Beautiful Therapy Dogs', Inc. http://www.golden-dogs.org. Muffin the Intrepid just does NOT give up. After 14 months of chemo, and two surgeries for cancer, he's been in remission over a year, he's OFF chemo, and healthier than ever. He's a dog on a mission. We do pet-assisted therapy four weekends a month. He visits Arnold Palmer Hospital for Women and Children, Give Kids the World, a home for developmentally disabled children called Grandma's House, and we still visit the Alzheimer's home. Plus we've visited Shands Children's Hospital (a hospital that specializes in children with cancer) and we're trying to work out volunteering there every other month (but it's three + hours a way so it's taking a while to organize). MUFFIN LOVES IT!!!

He's deaf. So what! He's had cancer. SO WHAT -- it just gives him more in common with the children he loves. He has his own special wagon that gets him up high enough to see the kids in wheelchairs (it has a little step up -- so what if the arthritis bothers him a bit because of the darned old chemo -- Mom'll massage it and make it feel better!!). Nothing stops this dog. I respect him more than any other animals I've ever met. He has taught ME the meaning of "don't quit". We've pursued healing for him -- and he cooperates with every vet he meets. Chiropractic, accupuncture ... even traditional medicine. When the vet needs to take blood to 'test' it --- Muffin simply holds his head up and offers his neck to the vet. My vet is continually astounded - he never needs a tech to help 'hold' Muffin -- no, Muffin KNOWS this is to help him, so you just DO IT!!

Muffin website: http://www.critturs.com

Megan was born in September 1993. She was one of a litter of 8 and was the youngest daughter (by a few seconds!) She was born with a so called silver spoon in her mouth as both Mum and Dad were of aristocratic stock and were… well... what we English call “posh” – all that means really is that there were an awful lot of letters after their names and that the entire family trotted around with their noses high in the air, which sometimes was rather dangerous as it meant they couldn’t really see where they were going and they would often bump into the lower classes, which at least gave the family a sense of decency!
Megan started off life being trained to be a hunting dog for the Duke of Devonshire’s shoots at Stratfield Saye, and for a while was extremely successful (so she says) but was unfortunately soon sacked from her post for some misdemeanour which she has never really discussed with me. I am afraid it probably had something to do with theft and food, both of which she has always been extremely fond!!
From then on life became one slide downhill. Megan fell pregnant and in 1995 gave birth to another 8 pups all of which have made successful careers as family pets. Megan however had suddenly met a most unsuitable suitor in the form of a “human”. Rosie Northcote-Smith, her then owner introduced Megan to a friend of hers called Peter, and after some rather grubby financial negotiations, Megan was forced from her comfortable home in the English countryside, and took up with Peter.
A terrible accident befell Megan shortly afterwards – for which Peter was entirely responsible and for which he has never forgiven himself – when Megan was hit by a car. She sustained rather serious injuries, of which the severing of the nerve in her right front leg was the most serious. After some time it was decided to amputate the leg, and so started a new chapter in Megan’s life.
The day after her operation Megan was already hopping around gleefully and having a great time showing off her stitches to anyone who cared to look. She was even smiling (yes, dogs smile a lot!!) being the centre of so much attention. Attention however would soon become the bane of her life! But she never complains, though occasionally feigns depression when addressed in a foreign language.
Megan in Venice

Megan’s life progressed happily and uneventfully until in 1999, the British Government, in one of their most enlightened moves – some would say their only enlightened move – decided to allow British dogs to travel abroad under a scheme called “Passport for Pets”. Megan got her passport and Peter had by then become the owner of a small flat in Italy on Lago Maggiore – and so started a life of travel for Megan and Peter. They travelled all around Europe together, and Megan visited such scintillating places as Paris (where she is photographed at the foot of the Eifel tower) Milan (where she developed a taste for Prada) and Venice (chasing the Pigeons in St Mark’s square) Recently she went to the rather smart resort of St Moritz to try her hand (oops, her 3 legs, that should be!) at skiing.
Megan is now 11½ years old and is becoming a grand old dame – with a wicked sense of humour. She tells filthy jokes, and has a few flecks of grey fur around her muzzle and snout. She is learning Italian and has become a well-loved feature on the lakefront in the beautiful town of Cannobio where she is affectionately known as “Il Cagnolino” (not to be confused with “Il Coniglio” which means “rabbit”) and spends a great deal of time by the water’s edge, “rescuing” sticks and other items of flotsam from a fate probably worse than death!! In the summer she swims a lot, and no – she doesn’t swim around in circles due to her three-leggedness, but uses her tail as a rudder. Clever, or what?
Her ambition for 2003? How about this? She says she wants to learn water-skiing! Not Mono ski-ing, not normal water ski-ing, but… Skiing on three skis! Now there’s a novelty!
Megan never met Oscar – but from looking at his picture says she fancies him rotten. He’s missing his left front leg and she her right front leg – and that’s given her an idea for when they meet in doggie heaven... We can only imagine what she means!!
She has her own email address – Megan@econotest.com – and promises to reply to any email she is sent.

I found Maverick when he was about 6 weeks old, somebody dumped him at my house. He was a very smart good puppy, and learned everything really fast. When he was 5 months old, he got out of the fence somehow and was missing. He came back the next day, but his left back leg had been cut almost all the way off, and he had "pulled" the foot down about 3 inches. I took him to the Emergency Vet because it was after regular office hours, and they wanted me to pay over $1000 just to clean the wound and bandage it, and tell me to go to my regular vet the next day. I was very upset and crying, thinking that I should just have him euthanized, because I could not afford that. I ended up just getting him a pain shot there, then he was knocked out from the medication and stress, so I just let him sleep in a bed in the car overnight.
I took him to the regular vet the next day, and carried him in, and the vet took one look at him and said the leg would have to come off, that he wouldn't charge me for cleaning and x-rays, etc. He said he thought it looked like Mav had been caught in a trap, and had tried to pull his leg out, that's why the foot was pulled down. He went to get an estimate for me, and came back and told me it would be about $300. I was so happy I could keep my puppy!! He took him into surgery immediately, and I came back to get him the next day. I was so heartbroken to see him in his cage, he was trying to stand up and I could see the muscles moving in the leg that wasn't there anymore. They cut the entire leg off, but left part of the bone at the top, and wrapped muscle around it so it would be a "pad" for him to sit on. I helped him stand up, and we went outside to potty, he had a hard time learning how to "squat" with only one back leg, but he managed okay.
After I took him home, he was depressed at first, he couldn't run or jump very much, because his one back leg wasn't used to doing the work of both of them. He would get tired after just going outside to potty, and didn't have much interest in his food or treats. I remember putting him on the couch once, then giving him a treat, and after he chewed on it for a minute, the treat fell on the floor. Maverick just sighed and laid his head down, he knew that he couldn't jump down to get it and be able to jump back up again. It was so sad to see him like this! (Of course I picked the treat up and gave it back to him!)
I thought again about having him euthanized, I couldn't stand to see him so miserable, when he had been such a happy puppy before. But I told myself to wait until he was completely healed, and then Maverick

I would see if he was happy or not. After about a month, he was getting better, and I could see that he was much happier. His leg was much stronger, and he was able to jump up on the couch again, and run and play with the other dogs. The picture I'm sending is from this time, about one month after surgery, he was laying behind the counter with me at work. He always went to work with me, ever since he was a tiny puppy, and once he was feeling better, I took him back, everyone was happy to see him, and now everyone knows about me and my "tripod" dog!
Now it has been over a year since he lost his leg, and he is just like any other dog, I'm so happy I was able to save him! He still can't do some things, I have to pick him up to put him in cars, because he can't jump up by himself, and I have to scratch his left side for him, because he has no back leg to scratch with! He will come up to me and lay his head on my leg and turn so the left side is up, and that's how he tells me he needs a scratch! Sometimes he will lay on the floor on his left side, and just rub his head back and forth on the carpet to scratch. People think it's funny to watch him pee on things when we go for a walk, he doesn't have a leg to lift, so he just leans his body to the side. I take him hiking with me, and sometimes I have to help him if we are doing any climbing, but most of the time he will find his own way! He's learned to rely on me for things like that, if he can't do it, he will just bark at me, and I know I have to go back and help him. He will just stand there and let me pick him up (it was easier when he was a puppy, he's about 60 pounds now! LOL). He's such a sweetie, I don't know what life would be like without him! He's a very happy fat little dognow, being "disabled" doesn't mean anything to him! I worry about hip problems in the future, because he's always hopping on one leg, and that has to be stressful for the joints, especially when he gets older, but we will deal with that when we come to it! Nothing can keep him down!

Maverick website: http://hometown.aol.com/tripodmutt/main.html

Ryleigh is a 95 lbs. American Bull dog. I founder her three summers ago. She was on the side of the Rd near my house. It is a country Rd. She was sitting beside what I suppose was her only friend. Expect the friend was died. Hit by a car a few days before, I guess. She didn't have any hair. She has what is called the Red Bug Mainge. He is hereditary and will never go away. She has to be dipped with a special formula every 8 - 10 weeks or so. I took her to the local vet. Then she weighed 50 lbs. They cleaner her up and advised me that it would take a lot of money to get her looking like a dog again. I'm not rich by no means, but she was worth it to me.
In January, she got missing on afternoon and finally showed up about midnight hopping. Freaked I took her to the vet the next morning. They said she had been hit by a car and the leg was paralyzed. And as long as she didn't drag it and it get infected then she could keep it. I guessed that was a bad decision... After some mounths she got a bed sore her elbow. It got worse. FAST! So the time came and she had her leg and shoulder blade removed.
But I have her home now and July makes one year with out her front left arm/leg. She moves around. She doesn't have her confidence when it comes to jumping in the back of the truck. We have to help her. She has taken over the recliner. It's hers and you best not think you or any one else can sit in it without her... She is with us!

The first time I saw a sausage dog on the wheelchair the first words that came into my mind where ''forcing'', ''therapeutic obstinacy''... and most of all ''egoism''. That was the word that was overbearing my mind. Poor him! For sure he wouldn't like living his life kept there for his owners to remember what he was in the past. Egoism and illusion; wanting to continue ''owning'' something that is not there anymore... or something that, if it could talk, would surely ''ask'' to leave this world. I thought so for many years. I have been profoundly and ethically convinced of it, until suddenly, in two months, both my dogs remained paralyzed.
The first, a German sheperd named Ektor, had a herniated disk which hadn't been recognized in time. I brought him to three different veterinaries, as I didn't want to surrender to the prognosis of the first (''the only thing to do is euthanasia''). Ektor (''Ettore'' for us) was only seven... After bringing him to two local veterinaries I didn't give up and I brought him to Milan to and expert of that pathology. When also he gave me the same response, i couldn't do anything, I had to give up. Ektor didn't come out alive of that ambulatory.
Ok, we always say, life goes on. I was helped by the fact that Snowwhite, the leader of my syberian huskyes breeding, was about to give birth to puppies, beatiful as always, healthy and very funny; but when the puppies had only a week, Snow started manifestating strange tremors on the back. Terrorized, I flew directly to the expert veterinary. I was convinced that also she had a herniated disc, but it was not so. Meanwhile, day after day, Snow continued loosing sensibility at the back limbs. A nightmare. I became the mother of her puppies (baby's bottle every two hours, night and day) while she passed from an ambulatory to the other, from a clinic to the next. After two never ending weeks the diagnosis arrived: degenerative mielopathy of unknown origin, probably (probably) viral. Prognosis: sure paralysis of the back part, probable progression towards tetraparalysis. Advice, once again, euthanasia.
But this time, egoism or not, I shouted: NO! Not also her, damn it. It was too much, it was unfair, I couldn't hold it.
I brought back home an apathic, unhappy and sad dog who didn't understand what was happening and, I was sure, she only wanted to die. But instead, telling her sorry for what I was doing and telling myself a thousand times ''dirty egoist'', I forced my husband to transform my son's ex-baby carriage in a cart for handicapped dogs. Regardless of my crying I put Snow on the cart and watched what happened.
Well, something happened that changed my stupid and antropomorphic convinctions on handicapped animals: it took Snow no more than ten minutes to get a hang of how to use this ''strange'' appendix that was applied to her. At the eleventh minute she was already happily wheeling down the plaza towards her favorite ball; she took it and brought it back to me. ''Hey, I'm standing again. Do you want to play?''
Snow was the female leader of my husky ''pack'' before her illness, and so she became again when she reappeared on her cart. Her daughter Stormy Claud in the meantime had taken control, but gave it back to Snow... not with joy! This is a true story, not a Walt Disney film. She absolutely didn't want to give back the leadership to Snow; she tried advancing towards her mother with raised hair, her teeth well shown and her legs stiff, all in an exhibition of dominance that left no doubts: she had no intention of leaving her leadership. When the two met I was there in case I had to break them up, thinking the worse could happen. You know what happened? Snowhite accepted the duel with no sign of fear: she advanced with the front legs stiffer than the daughter's, stiff ears, looking still... and cart on the back. But this counted nothing. The two observed each other for a few seconds until Snow made a humble ''grrrr''... and Stormy gave up. "Okay, Okay, you're back and you're the leader again."
Snowhite's is not a good end story, unfortunatelly: her ''cart period'' lasted less than eight months. Her illness, by now forgotten by us, progressed... and this time it was - quickly - the end. Nasty, huh? Was real nasty, I swear. But not like Ektor. Because this time we had really done all that was possible. And because I had been able to give her 8 months of happiness in which she felt like a ''normal'' dog, welcoming me every morning with her classic nordic ''smile'' and, for sure, in her mind also with her tail, which she couldn't move anymore like all the rest of her back part.

Valeria Rossi (www.tipresentoilcane.com)

Hi to everyone! My name is Cioby and I'm a dog with a semi-paralysis on the back legs.
Cioby

I'll explain what happened.
Before being paralyzed I was a homeless dog, I roamed around the world, until a day, passing through Ostiglia, a village near Mantova (Italy), a car took me over. A boy that worked nearly saw the accident: the driver that took me over didn't even stop, while Max, who saw everything, helped me out. His wife and him brought me immediately to the veterinary, who wouldn't have hesitated a second to put me down; however they didn't accept that decision and went to another veterinary. The latter adviced them to cure me for a few days before deciding what to do. The damages I had from that accident are: 5 stitches on the leg, various contusions and, unfortunately, spinal chord lesion. I'm not able to walk, but my back legs still have sensibility and sometimes I can move them. Max and Lisa, my owners, have constructed me a wheelchair, appropriately studied for me; and now, regardless of the other veterinary, I can run, play, full around and, most of all, I'm still alive and I dont suffer any type of pain!
If you also are in need of a wheelchair but you dont know how to make one, you can contact my owners which are prone to help you out or look at the projects on my site http://caneparalizzato.interfree.it/.

We found Mu on the September of 1999 (or did he let us find him?) in a dumping; she had 5 months and she lived in a fridge! She had been abandoned along with her brothers, one of which was poisoned and the other hanged!!!!!!! Just to let you know the situation at my place. Mu didn't have and doesn't have the right foot. After petting him for a few weeks I started bringing him food every day. In a stormy and windy night I went to look for her but she wasn't there! After feeling bewildered and with the heart in my mouth I went to look for her in the village where I lived. Muzione and Paolino

The day after I asked if anyone had seen him and luckily a person saw him behind his house, and infact he was there. I petted him... then I decided... I went back home, took the car and I took him!!!! He was OURS!!!!!
We poned ourselves many questions: we were on rent in an apartment at the first floor... around us only people that were not friendly to animals. But the critics meant nothing to us, we din't care about the people who saw him and told us to put down the dog. Near my house there was a down girl, and it was her mother that adviced us to put him down; I always thought of her and the love that all living thigs can give us. I would never even dream of getting rid of the love of someone I love only because he doesn't correspond to the 'normal' type of look and health.
Mu ate a lot when he was puppy, his meals are still object of our discussions today; he was happy and played with anything he would find!!! He used to bring us back empty bottles, but the top was when he found butterflies!!!! Muzione and Paolino on the Snow

He started jumping around making lovely noises and he... killed them, looking at them astonished because they wouldn't move anymore. Then he looked at me or my husband who would tell him ''the butterflies must live!!'' But he never understood.
He still plays, now he has more space and he lives in the same house that in the meanwhile has been renovated since summer 2000. He adapted himself quickly and he spends a lot of time on the balcony. Now he is big, white, doesnt eat as much but is always fond of good food... His buddy is Paolino (in the two pictures on the right), whom Mu had seen the birth of. Since then he has always petted him and allowed him anything. He ran around the house with Paolino hanged on his ear, he made him seat on his big nose... Now he still loves him and so does Paolino: in the morning when Paolino wakes he goes directly from our bed to MU's dog bed... he kisses him then he goes out!!! The neighbours like Paolino a lot and often they leave bones for him. And he brings the biggest and most cooked ones to Muzione, his real mother!!!! They live in symbiosis, they never leave each other. When we bring them out it's a show: the have real fun!! Since Paolino doesn't like the car, when we bring Mu to the veterinary our sister-in-law tells us that Paolino waits for him looking around anxiously, and when Mu finally arrives he explodes in joy!!!!! Another of his buddies is Tex (with whom he ''sings'' in the picture on the left) and 4 cats (Tomma has a story below), but his relationship with Paolino is the only special one.

In July I went to mother's house on the countryside. Since she kind of lazy, usually, when I go there I help her out in the house. I had to clean the floor and I went behind the house to take the water and necessary stuff; while I was going out my mother asked me to see where that strange noise that she heard for days was coming from. Tomma and Rosanna

The noise was a miaowing of a kitten buried under some wood sticks; the face completely covered with lime, dirt, pus. She had a skullcap instead of a head!!!!! With some courage I started taking her out; she was crying, purring and scratching, I put her on the sink and my mother asked me ''what have you found???'' She was a cat, or at least looked like one, so I answered. She went to take some water and we washed her, hurting her a bit sometimes; all sort of stuff was coming out of her eyes!!! Then we gave her milk and put her in a box to bring her home. For many days she came out only to drink the milk, with the face still dirty with glue and lime! Afterwards she started walking around the house. Tomma

In the meantime I brought her to the veterinary, who told me that I could have only cured the esthetical look of the eyes; practically I had to prevent them from drying otherwise I would have to operate her to get her eyes removed, or else euthanasia! Well, my husband and my mother were opting for this option... me no... and this is how Tomma (I found her in St. Thomas' day) lives and plays with us. She likes being petted, playing and she is very sweet!
Tomma has been visited by one of the best experts of animal ophtalmology, in Rome: the cornes is solidified and melted with the front part of the eyes... and I was thinking that she could have had a miracolous operation, instead... she only sees a minimum of light. She is able to climb stairs but she calls us when she wants to come back down!!! Now she's grown up a lot, she's beautiful and her look is glassy... but with two seams... and.... most of all.... she lives!

I look with sadness at her amputated front leg. It's terrible, it looks as if precisely cut by scissors... it doesn't even seem real but it is. She proudly sits standing on the other leg, very beatiful with a white spot, and looks at me. I look in her sweet and sad eyes the answer to my obstination of wanting to know.
I keep asking her: «What have they done to you? Who is that miserable person that has been able to abandon you?». I will never know and she will never be able to tell me how much she suffered. But who cares. Now she is here with us, safe, forever.
Maybe she will forget her pain, I hope, but often she wakes while dreaming and she cries like a baby, sighing continously making her little honey colored body shake. Also her ears vibrate but the tail is always tight between the two back legs.
Is she dreaming about the trap that caused her so much pain? (maybe this is what happened). Or worse, is she dreaming about her loniless when she was abandoned? So I hug her tighter to give her all the love that she still hasn't got.
And my husband didn't even want to stop at the dog's house that day. Lolita

We had passed there, always with our inseparable Ariosto, to leave some bags of bread and crackers; after I insisted, as I usually do, to bring out a female dog to prevent her from arguing with the other dogs. «Take that dog over there» they told us, pointing at at a nose that was sticking out from a fence, «she still has to go out». And it was immediately love. Only the moment after we realized about her leg. «We can't leave her here» my husband said, knowing I was on his side. I had often asked to take another dog, female, so that Ariosto wouldn't be alone; in addition I would have made one of those dogs that sadly stay behind the bars happy.
Now we are four in our little apartment. Of course it represents a little sacrifice for us and also some practical problems like too many hairs on the the carpets. But in the evening, when we are all layed down on the couch and Ariosto sleeps in peace with Lolita on his side, the atmosphere is so beatiful, relaxing and lovely that we wouldn't be able to live without them.

On the last 29th of May Lalla escapes from home and ends under a car, from that moment she never stood on her 4 feets again. She's quickly brought to a veterinary in the area (that makes us wait two hours before seeing her); he makes some x-rays and tells us to bring her home for a couple of days and then come back to see if she's operable. Untrusty of this veterinary who hadn't even worried about curing the wounds she had all over the body, the day after I brought her (asking a member of an animal association) at the veterinary clinic university Federico II of Naples (Italy).

Lalla on her cart

I'm about to describe one of the most painful moments of my life and I dont know if it means I've suffered too little during my life or if I love Lalla too much... The ''great'' professor touches her backbone and does some sensibility tests, after which he tells me there is nothing to do, she would have never walked again and she will not be able to control her kidney; in other words she was completely paralyzed on all the back part. At that point I ask him to double check making some x-rays, after which he told me that a vertebra had completely moved causing the interruption of the spinal chord.
So they adviced me to put her down!
Now, I agree with euthanasia when living has becoming synonim of suffering, but that I know of this has never been adviced to a human... or am I wrong? After this ''accurate'' visit, that lasted no more than 5 minutes, we went back home with a broken heart. The first days where the worst because Lalla used to be a very lively dog, if was beatiful seeing her running for hours on the beach, diving from rocks and swimming to catch the stick. Francesco, my boyfriend, Ibù, Lalla's buddy, and me were desperate. Lalla at seaside

Initially we tried various methods to make her move, but seem interested; however we solved the incontinence problem with a just putting her sitted there every 3 or 4 hours and pressing on her belly and the problem wasn't there anymore!
After many tries Francesco made a splendid cart that allowed her to move very well and to run faster than before. Lalla was sad only for a week, after which she started playing with Ibù again! We are happy again. The coming summer we decided to go on vacation with 2 friends and 5 dogs (Lalla, Ibù and 3 puppies) in Molise (Italy); we spent a week in a countryside camping where Lalla could easily moves around with her cart and runs on the lawn going after the ball. The we went down the Puglia coast stopping by the calmest beaches; Lalla started swimming again and from then on things changed... Lalla runs

Once we were back home we noticed that the back legs had gained muscular tone and gradually something was changing: once in a while she was moving her back legs, but we decided not to go to any other veterinary. One day Lalla got wounded on her left back leg so we brought her to the veterinary near our house. Lalla

When she was getting disinfected she moved her leg as if she was able to feel the pain, at that point the veterinary asked me if at the time, at the veterinary clinic, they had tried a mielography test to see if it was possible to put back the vertebra in its position... but obviously the veterinaries there had told me nothing of this! Then she told us to let her swim often and who knows if mother nature will do its miracle... I didn't tell this story to have the irresponsible veterinaries pass some horrible 15 minutes, but to remember that a dog is not a seat, that when his leg breaks you can't throw him away; he is an irreplaceable soul for the people that live with him, none of the dogs and cats I had in the past have taken the place of the other, each have their separate place in my heart.
I hope that our story can be useful to someone that will find himself in our situation, you can mail me if you need any advice on how to help a 4-legged friend live on 2 legs and 2 wheels... (noemi_74@libero.it)