Cazi
06-28-2003, 04:44 PM
My friend has no idea what so ever how her request of “Come with me and have a look at Mrs Jones pups” would affect my life. I’d never given a single thought to having a puppy. I lived on my own and needed a little company but a puppy was the last thing I was contemplating.
I duly obliged my friends’ request and instantaneously fell in love with a little white bundle of fluff. I convinced myself that with my 21st birthday approaching, he would be an ideal present to myself. I took him home that day and then followed the arduous task of selecting a name for him. I settled with Peps.
I endured the house training and the chewing and I admit that my patience wore a bit thin at times. You know the occasions, where you walk them through the woods for 2 hours and there’s no sign of any relief, only to find that as soon as you enter your home, there’s a desperate need of it! I can still see his face now when I came home from shopping to find that he had totally destroyed a feather cushion! Not forgetting the hole that he chewed in a brand new, never been worn, leather skirt. My adventures with Peps had just begun.
He kept me company and was my soul companion until I eventually fell in love with a man. It soon transpired that Peps resented me sharing his attention but with time, he grew just as fond as my man as I did. We decided to venture into the pub trade where Peps regained any attention that he was missing from me, with the customers.
Unfortunately, one day, the door was left open and Peps managed to get out and was subsequently involved in a car accident. He survived the accident but his right front leg was paralysed. It was a case of time before we would know whether he would regain the use of it. He looked so pitiful dragging it around on the floor and I received many cruel looks from people that we passed.
I didn’t know any other dog that had 3 legs so I was kind of shocked when the Vet told me it was a case of amputation or euthanasia. Of course, there was only option. Peps had his leg removed. He was four years old.
I cried while watching him adjust agonising every time he stumbled or fell over but with time, he adapted. Of course he drew lots of attention and sympathy and he loved it!
Several years later I noticed that he was carrying one of his back legs slightly so I asked the Vet to check him over. It wasn’t good news. His kneecap was dislocating. However, they could operate as it would leave him opposite legs to balance on. The thought of him walking, if you can call it that, on three legs was enough turmoil for me, never mind the thought of two, but I gave permission for the operation to go ahead.
Millennium New Years Eve, I collected him and cried because of what I had done. How could I be so selfish as to make him suffer like this? I’m glad I did. A couple of weeks later he was back to full fitness. The operation had done wonders and gave him a new lease of life.
Everything was fine until one day, a couple of years later; I noticed that he had started to lift his other hind leg whilst walking. The Vet confirmed my suspicions. The kneecap was giving way and they couldn’t operate on this occasion, as he wouldn’t have opposites to balance on during the recovery period. A prescription for painkillers and anti- inflammatory tablets soon followed and became a recurring habit.
I woke up one morning and decided enough was enough and made an appointment to see the vet, as the painkillers seemed to be having little effect. She agreed that it would be best to put him to sleep, as there was nothing else they could do.
He passed away in my arms, pain free at last.
He was such a brave lad you know. He lived to the ripe age of 13, spending nine of them with three legs, which I believe was due to his ‘young attitude’. He never looked or acted old. He was always young at heart and he taught me that nothing is impossible if you have the right attitude.
I lost my best friend that day but I will never forget him and his bravery, tolerance and love of life will stay with me forever.
I duly obliged my friends’ request and instantaneously fell in love with a little white bundle of fluff. I convinced myself that with my 21st birthday approaching, he would be an ideal present to myself. I took him home that day and then followed the arduous task of selecting a name for him. I settled with Peps.
I endured the house training and the chewing and I admit that my patience wore a bit thin at times. You know the occasions, where you walk them through the woods for 2 hours and there’s no sign of any relief, only to find that as soon as you enter your home, there’s a desperate need of it! I can still see his face now when I came home from shopping to find that he had totally destroyed a feather cushion! Not forgetting the hole that he chewed in a brand new, never been worn, leather skirt. My adventures with Peps had just begun.
He kept me company and was my soul companion until I eventually fell in love with a man. It soon transpired that Peps resented me sharing his attention but with time, he grew just as fond as my man as I did. We decided to venture into the pub trade where Peps regained any attention that he was missing from me, with the customers.
Unfortunately, one day, the door was left open and Peps managed to get out and was subsequently involved in a car accident. He survived the accident but his right front leg was paralysed. It was a case of time before we would know whether he would regain the use of it. He looked so pitiful dragging it around on the floor and I received many cruel looks from people that we passed.
I didn’t know any other dog that had 3 legs so I was kind of shocked when the Vet told me it was a case of amputation or euthanasia. Of course, there was only option. Peps had his leg removed. He was four years old.
I cried while watching him adjust agonising every time he stumbled or fell over but with time, he adapted. Of course he drew lots of attention and sympathy and he loved it!
Several years later I noticed that he was carrying one of his back legs slightly so I asked the Vet to check him over. It wasn’t good news. His kneecap was dislocating. However, they could operate as it would leave him opposite legs to balance on. The thought of him walking, if you can call it that, on three legs was enough turmoil for me, never mind the thought of two, but I gave permission for the operation to go ahead.
Millennium New Years Eve, I collected him and cried because of what I had done. How could I be so selfish as to make him suffer like this? I’m glad I did. A couple of weeks later he was back to full fitness. The operation had done wonders and gave him a new lease of life.
Everything was fine until one day, a couple of years later; I noticed that he had started to lift his other hind leg whilst walking. The Vet confirmed my suspicions. The kneecap was giving way and they couldn’t operate on this occasion, as he wouldn’t have opposites to balance on during the recovery period. A prescription for painkillers and anti- inflammatory tablets soon followed and became a recurring habit.
I woke up one morning and decided enough was enough and made an appointment to see the vet, as the painkillers seemed to be having little effect. She agreed that it would be best to put him to sleep, as there was nothing else they could do.
He passed away in my arms, pain free at last.
He was such a brave lad you know. He lived to the ripe age of 13, spending nine of them with three legs, which I believe was due to his ‘young attitude’. He never looked or acted old. He was always young at heart and he taught me that nothing is impossible if you have the right attitude.
I lost my best friend that day but I will never forget him and his bravery, tolerance and love of life will stay with me forever.