Two years ago tonight, a wolf tried to make Hobo his dinner. I know of three dogs who survived wolf attacks that winter. I know of at least 20 who weren't as lucky as Hobo. Hobo saved his entire team that night. If he had not slipped his collar and ran as fast as his little legs would go, I am sure more dogs would have been injured or more likely killed. One of his teammates was also badly injured. Diesel had less severe injuries than Hobo. He made a complete recovery too, although his gait is funky now.
Hobo's injuries were extensive. His underside was essentially ripped open from his ribs to his tail. For a few weeks following the attack, his very survival was in doubt. My vet was quite sure Hobo would never regain control of his bowels. As the wolf chased him, it grabbed his tail. All the muscles that support his tail and bodily functions were torn. It took months to get Hobo back on his feet. There was no skin left to close many of his wounds and several on his back legs would not heal. Then an infection moved into the bones of his front leg almost leading to an amputation.
Through everything, Hobo was still happy. He would lick my face as I cleaned his wounds, he tried to stand up when I came into the room. He never fussed about taking his pills, never snarled as I flushed the drains sticking out everywhere. I was a stranger to Hobo at this point. He was not my dog when he was attacked. I was taking care of a injured musher's team while he was hospitalized. Telling Jim that two of his dogs had been brutalized in my yard was the least fun conversation I've ever had! Fortunately, he was on large doses of morphine which cushioned the news!
Hobo was never supposed to be able to run in harness again. His owner is a very competitive sprint musher. He asked if we would be interested in keeping him. Of course, after a week of watching this little fighter, I could not refuse and Hobo joined the pack.
Hobo defied all odds. He has full control of everything, except sometimes his enthusiasm! He is a hard working sled dog who hates to be left behind. He is covered with physical scars. The fur on his belly never grew back. He can't be outside in the cold for long anymore or he gets frostbite. He has some emotional scars too. Hobo hates the dark now. He will not sleep outside. He has a nest in a closet where he likes to sleep.
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This is how Hobo marked the anniversary of his near death--he ran 15km in swing with much delight!
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A tired Hobo is a quiet Hobo, at least for a few minutes. He thought he should come for two runs today!
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One of my favorite pictures of him. The missing piece of his ear is one of the scars from the wolf.
Hobo's attack was the start of a rotten month around here--Hoodoo died a week later and then everyone got kennel cough. Hobo was my little ray sunshine though it all. I'm pretty sure Hoodoo had it planned that way. I wish they had got to know each other. What a pair the two goofiest dogs in history would have been!
Happy Anniversary doesn't seem like the right phrase for this occasion. I'm sorry your road to our house was so painful, Hobo, but I am thrilled you ended up here! I can't imagine how we ever survived without our little psycho puppy!
