As you may recall, Poogan was officially tripawed on Monday of last week, because of a soft tissue sarcoma. I am officially in awe of this dog's (and every animal's really, as they are so much tougher than we humans) resiliency. Day One post-returning-home saw her able to go upstairs on her own; by Day Three she could also go downstairs, a much tougher task when the paw missing is a front paw. By Day Five, she could jump up onto and down from the sofa and eat from her bowl in the floor (another tricky one, requiring more balance than one would imagine). On Day Six, two days ago, I can officially say she made my heart swell with joy and pride.
Every evening, around 7 or 8 o'clock, we walk the dogs. They all seem to know what time it is, and the indoor dogs all get excited when they see us head for the back door to gather the leashes. Lorcan starts sneezing uncontrollably, Nibbles starts tap-dancing in circles, and Poogan winds up her Jack-Nicholson-in-The-Shining-smile (you know, when you can see her last molars and her eyes take on a slight smidge of madness).
Every day up until Sunday, Poogan didn't show much interest at walk time, but Sunday, she lined up with everyone else, channeling Jack in full force. She's still not wearing a collar, so I couldn't leash her up, but I figured, "Hey, she's missing a leg. We can catch her if she decides to run off." We also fully expected to carry her most of the way. Not a chance. She was very good to stay with the pack, but when her feet hit grass she was bounding like a puppy. She made it almost all the way around the block before I made hubby pick her up & carry her; she likely would have kept going but she was panting pretty hard, and I didn't want to risk her overdoing it.
Watching her return to her former self and abilities has been an inspiring lesson in sticktoitiveness. It's amazing to see her nonchalant response to a slip of the paw and resulting face-plant. A human's reaction would include self-consciousness and embarrassment, but all she thinks about is trying again to get it right. We all could learn something from our courageous canine counterparts. Here's to you, Poogan!
(This photo was taken on Sunday morning, when Poogan decided we should just lie in the driveway for fifteen minutes or so and enjoy the breeze and the quiet at 7:00 a.m. She's so wise; it was lovely.)
P.S. On a totally unrelated note, Middle, his girlfriend, and I rented Cloverfield last night. While I liked the movie, it was no better for sensitive stomachs on a television than the big screen. I missed a half hour or so while I regurgitated my dinner, my lunch, and my breakfast, and possibly even dinner from the night before. Dramamine, people, Dramamine. They weren't lying.
