Granny's Tails. Pam Bell

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      Moving in next door to heaven.

      Granny

      Monday morning, 9:00 a.m. – a time of the week when everyone is in a hurry to start their week.

      I belonged to a little sickly, elderly lady. The physical therapist came promptly to visit her Monday at 8:00 a.m. and he kindly let me outside. After his treatment on my owner, he put her back to bed and told her goodbye – anxious to get on with his schedule. He forgot that I was outside, and like my owner, I moved slowly with arthritis and pain. He quickly backed out of the driveway and I couldn’t get out of the way. I lay motionless on the driveway.

      The therapist realized that he had backed over me. He immediately jumped out and picked me up as I screamed in pain. Without telling anyone where we were going, we started on a fast, panicked ride to the nearest animal hospital. I knew that I might die. My back and legs hurt so much I thought of my owner, my home, and my couch and that’s where I wanted to be.

      He screeched the car to a stop at the front door of the animal hospital and ran in. A pretty girl in the front office took me and this big burly therapist named Steve to an exam room. A technician came right in and said that she would get the doctor right away!

      I knew that I would not be alright. No dog that was as broken as I was could be okay after a car had backed over her. I only weighed 13 lbs and I was . . . OLD!

      A kind veterinarian came in and listened to my heart and lungs and that was all okay, but that was the only thing that was. He tried to examine my back end but I couldn’t take the pain. He looked at this man that brought me there – the one that backed over me – and said, “Her pelvis and both back legs are fractured. She will never walk again most likely.” I thought about my life – jumping up on my owner’s bed and couch. I loved to be in those places and now I didn’t know where I was or who these people were.

      The veterinarian said that he would call my owner’s daughter and the big therapist said how awful he felt and that he would pay for all my medical bills to fix me up – but I didn’t think that I could be fixed.

      During the day I heard lot of talk about me. I was given medication for pain and put on a blanket in a warm cage. Then I heard the phone call to my owner’s daughter. I heard the exact words: “Put her to sleep – it’s for the best. She’ll never walk again.”

      I saw a girl bring a shot with pink medicine in it and lay it by my cage. I knew that I would die soon – without even saying goodbye to my owner. I shook with pain and fear.

      The doctor called for the technician to bring me out to be euthanized. A different technician came to get me. She looked me in the eyes and said, “You will be okay.” She took me to the veterinarian and said, “We can’t put her to sleep. Look at her face.” He looked at me in the face and said, “Okay, let’s see how she does. She will probably never walk again.”

      The phone calls started again and my owner’s daughter agreed to allow them to try to help me. She released ownership to them – whoever they were.

      The therapist who ran over me never called back and never paid my bill, but I knew I was safe and … I would be okay. That girl told me I would. That shot with the put-to-sleep solution disappeared.

      Over the next six weeks I missed my couch and my owner. I never talked to her again. The people at the hospital were kind. They cared for me with love and carried me around everywhere. I couldn’t even go outside to go potty. I made stinky messes and they cleaned them up. I whimpered from pain and they gave me medicine. I couldn’t reach my dishes to eat or drink and they moved them for me. I felt like a helpless dog.

      Then one day I tried my hardest to stand. Then I stumbled and walked down the hall. It hurt but I did it!! Everyone started yelling – “She’s walking!” Everyone was so excited – mostly me! I could finally go home, the place I missed so much.

      So the phone calls started again to my owner’s daughter. “She’s walking! Come take her home.” And then I realized they didn’t want me any more. My owner was in a nursing home. Her daughter didn’t want to deal with me. I was homeless and so sad. The therapist that ran me over never even called back. I listened and found out that I would live at the hospital with my new name – Granny.

      I adjusted quickly to my new home. Many people loved me. The people that brought their pets there grew to know me and always ask where I was. Being off that couch actually felt good.

      I became a busybody. СКАЧАТЬ