I was adopted Dec. 31, 2005. at 7-weeks-old, and named G.G. Since there was sparse traffic near my new home, I was allowed to wander untethered, curiosity and discovery being my guides.
When I was 1-year-old, I went exploring one morning, and I spotted a rabbit and immediately gave chase. Well, he ran right up onto Route 66 with me in hot pursuit. WHAM! A pickup truck hit me at full speed (I resemble a coyote).
Luckily, the wonderful lady following him saw what happened and stopped to help. She got my doctor’s telephone number off my rabies tag and called, and they called my owner.
He drove up immediately and took me to the hospital. After X-rays were viewed, the doctor described the situation, a clean break of my right humerus, and the medical procedures needed – a stainless steel shaft inserted down the middle of the bone.
The alternative was a very long sleep. I got a little worried when it took my owner several seconds to tell the doctor to begin surgery.
A couple days following surgery, I got sick and was unable to move and vomiting blood. Back to the hospital I went. My kidneys had failed, I was put on I.V. and spent a week at the hospital. My owner came every day to feed me lunch – baby food and water – using a syringe.
It took several months to recover and get the rod removed. I was my old self, except I was constantly on a leash. Then, several months afterward, my leg developed a bump in the back. Back to the hospital for more X-rays – it broke again. The next repair was a steel rod outside my leg, secured with four screws into the bone. It looked like a TV antenna and I wore it for a whole year. Then, about six years ago, there was the ... Nevermind, that’s a story for another time.
Now that I’m 12-years-old, my leg is tired, weak and deformed, having lost use of the tendons needed to walk properly.
But that doesn't stop me from wanting to explore, and I always look forward to visiting the great doctors and staff at the local animal hospital.
Transcribed by D.B. Mitchell Valle Vista