Lucky for Christmas
Back in October I was feeling the need for companionship, yet not willing to commit, so I decided to foster.
I already have one dog that I love dearly and rescued three years ago, yet I am always looking to help out other less fortunate animals.
I had recently been getting involved with the local Humane Society and had just received an e-mail that day pleading for people to help out in fostering a dog since they were overrun with dogs and not enough cages.
There were no pictures, only descriptions of the dogs.
I knew what I could handle, already having three small kids, two cats, a dog, and a guinea pig, but it was more about what could my husband handle?When I read the description about Lucky, a 7 year old beagle who found himself in the shelter because his owner had died, needing a little TLC and help in dieting, I knew I had to foster him.
Upon our first meeting, Lucky waddled, and I mean waddled over to me.
A dog who should have weighed 25-30 pounds came slowly waddling at an almost staggering weight of 50 some pounds.
He was happy, friendly, and very mellow, and I was smitten and determined to help him.
Upon his entrance the people at the shelter noticed a limp that was more prominent then they had noticed earlier, so he was to have a visit with the vet then home with me.
The diagnosis was a torn Anterior Cruciate Ligament.
I had no idea what that was, what it meant, and what it would entail for Lucky as we both left the shelter.
His instructions were to be: no stairs, limited activity, short walks to do his business, take his medicine, and a strict diet.
Well, Lucky had his own agenda once I got him home.
He quickly fell in love with the kids, as they did with him.
The other animals already in the house didn't seem to mind him.
It was just my husband wanting to know why he was at our house.
Just fostering, helping him out I assured him.
Lucky didn't believe in limited activity.
The stairs that the people at the shelter highly doubted that he would attempt, he attempted every time we were either upstairs or downstairs.
In the evenings he managed to get in the garbage, or the cat food, basically thumbing his nose at his diet.
When I went for walks with the other dog, he pushed his way out and insisted on walking, with limp, and meeting everyone in the neighborhood.
His cough pursued, another reason he needed foster care, and I just assumed it was a cough until I found him throwing up blood.
I quickly took him back to the shelter where they took a look at him, weighed him, actually gained weight, and came to the conclusion that he had a reaction to the pain medications that he was taking for the torn ACL.
After that scare, Lucky began getting better.
I was now stricter than ever with him.
He now slept in a cage, by my bed upstairs, no more late night binges.
He also continued short walks to the bus stop to pick up the kids, small portions of food morning and night, and snacks of mini carrots in between to curb his appetite.
I began to feel like he was a contestant on the show the Biggest Loser as I took him occasionally to the shelter for weigh ins.
His diet was working and he was looking better than ever.
It was at this time that I received a call from the shelter informing me that they wanted Lucky to be seen by a specialist for his torn ACL.
This was a surprise, because I was under the assumption that he was to old, to heavy, and not a potential candidate for the surgery.
I was elated knowing that there is a lot of life left in Lucky and he would make someone a terrific dog.
Once we had seen the specialist, who agreed that Lucky would be a great candidate for the surgery and commented on what a wonderful disposition Lucky had, we waited to see what the shelter would say.
At this point, Lucky was now the pet of the month with pet finder, known throughout the shelter and our neighborhood, and had his picture taken with the kids for our Christmas card.
The shelter agreed to his surgery and off he went.
I was not prepared for what the aftermath of the surgery would entail.
Poor Lucky came home with a splint covering his entire right hind leg.
This splint was not to get wet so every time he went out, on a leash only, he was to wear a protective boot over the cast to be put on prior to going out and taken off again in the house, not to mention the Elizabethan collar around his neck preventing him from chewing at his splint.
He was restricted from steps, and this time even Lucky agreed, so we put his cage in the living room only with the splint he could not turn around in the cage so we made him a bed on the floor.
The medication was plenty and helped him to sleep a bit, but he would wake at night and howl so that I would have to take my sleeping bag and sleep with him on the living room floor.
This went on for two weeks until the cast came off.
With the cast off and awaiting his final visit with the specialist, Lucky is still living under restrictions.
He is not suppose to do steps, although you can't stop Lucky, unless you want to hear him howl all night so he is now back in his cage by my bed.
Lucky is still dieting, and in fact looks at carrots as a dog treat.
Laugh if you will, but Lucky is now an almost svelte 40 pounds.
A lady expressed interest in adopting Lucky from pet finder, so he could have a home.
Let's just say, we got Lucky for Christmas in more ways than one.
I already have one dog that I love dearly and rescued three years ago, yet I am always looking to help out other less fortunate animals.
I had recently been getting involved with the local Humane Society and had just received an e-mail that day pleading for people to help out in fostering a dog since they were overrun with dogs and not enough cages.
There were no pictures, only descriptions of the dogs.
I knew what I could handle, already having three small kids, two cats, a dog, and a guinea pig, but it was more about what could my husband handle?When I read the description about Lucky, a 7 year old beagle who found himself in the shelter because his owner had died, needing a little TLC and help in dieting, I knew I had to foster him.
Upon our first meeting, Lucky waddled, and I mean waddled over to me.
A dog who should have weighed 25-30 pounds came slowly waddling at an almost staggering weight of 50 some pounds.
He was happy, friendly, and very mellow, and I was smitten and determined to help him.
Upon his entrance the people at the shelter noticed a limp that was more prominent then they had noticed earlier, so he was to have a visit with the vet then home with me.
The diagnosis was a torn Anterior Cruciate Ligament.
I had no idea what that was, what it meant, and what it would entail for Lucky as we both left the shelter.
His instructions were to be: no stairs, limited activity, short walks to do his business, take his medicine, and a strict diet.
Well, Lucky had his own agenda once I got him home.
He quickly fell in love with the kids, as they did with him.
The other animals already in the house didn't seem to mind him.
It was just my husband wanting to know why he was at our house.
Just fostering, helping him out I assured him.
Lucky didn't believe in limited activity.
The stairs that the people at the shelter highly doubted that he would attempt, he attempted every time we were either upstairs or downstairs.
In the evenings he managed to get in the garbage, or the cat food, basically thumbing his nose at his diet.
When I went for walks with the other dog, he pushed his way out and insisted on walking, with limp, and meeting everyone in the neighborhood.
His cough pursued, another reason he needed foster care, and I just assumed it was a cough until I found him throwing up blood.
I quickly took him back to the shelter where they took a look at him, weighed him, actually gained weight, and came to the conclusion that he had a reaction to the pain medications that he was taking for the torn ACL.
After that scare, Lucky began getting better.
I was now stricter than ever with him.
He now slept in a cage, by my bed upstairs, no more late night binges.
He also continued short walks to the bus stop to pick up the kids, small portions of food morning and night, and snacks of mini carrots in between to curb his appetite.
I began to feel like he was a contestant on the show the Biggest Loser as I took him occasionally to the shelter for weigh ins.
His diet was working and he was looking better than ever.
It was at this time that I received a call from the shelter informing me that they wanted Lucky to be seen by a specialist for his torn ACL.
This was a surprise, because I was under the assumption that he was to old, to heavy, and not a potential candidate for the surgery.
I was elated knowing that there is a lot of life left in Lucky and he would make someone a terrific dog.
Once we had seen the specialist, who agreed that Lucky would be a great candidate for the surgery and commented on what a wonderful disposition Lucky had, we waited to see what the shelter would say.
At this point, Lucky was now the pet of the month with pet finder, known throughout the shelter and our neighborhood, and had his picture taken with the kids for our Christmas card.
The shelter agreed to his surgery and off he went.
I was not prepared for what the aftermath of the surgery would entail.
Poor Lucky came home with a splint covering his entire right hind leg.
This splint was not to get wet so every time he went out, on a leash only, he was to wear a protective boot over the cast to be put on prior to going out and taken off again in the house, not to mention the Elizabethan collar around his neck preventing him from chewing at his splint.
He was restricted from steps, and this time even Lucky agreed, so we put his cage in the living room only with the splint he could not turn around in the cage so we made him a bed on the floor.
The medication was plenty and helped him to sleep a bit, but he would wake at night and howl so that I would have to take my sleeping bag and sleep with him on the living room floor.
This went on for two weeks until the cast came off.
With the cast off and awaiting his final visit with the specialist, Lucky is still living under restrictions.
He is not suppose to do steps, although you can't stop Lucky, unless you want to hear him howl all night so he is now back in his cage by my bed.
Lucky is still dieting, and in fact looks at carrots as a dog treat.
Laugh if you will, but Lucky is now an almost svelte 40 pounds.
A lady expressed interest in adopting Lucky from pet finder, so he could have a home.
Let's just say, we got Lucky for Christmas in more ways than one.
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