Dogs don't think in language like humans do. We can't tell ourselves stories about the past as we remember it. We remember things by recording snapshots, like photographs. When we are having fun and enjoying ourselves, we take lots of good pictures. Happy pictures so we can remember how happy we were and what made us happy. When bad things happen, we take pictures of that, too. And we record what made us sad, or unhappy, so we can avoid it in the future. I guess that's why I like to take pictures so much for the 5 on the Fifth posts. I get a chance to show you some of the pictures in my mental photo album.
Today, no good pictures were taken. I am sad. Very sad.
But the day didn't start out that way. We were all very happy. I have lots of those pictures. Papa getting up in the morning. Nicky chasing after me. Going down the steps and outside to potty after a long night. Those are all good pictures that I have in my photo album already. Daddy coming down. Eating breakfast. Oh, pap makes such good breakfasts. And then, some of the best pictures of all came up! Daddy getting out the green harness and putting it on me. Oh boy! That means we are going for walkies! I love walkies. I get so excited. So does Nicky. We love walking with Papa and Daddy. Some of our favorite pictures were recorded on those walks. Lots of smells and friends to meet. Nicky doesn't like the friends, but he likes those smells.
But this morning our walk was like the one we took a few days ago. Only worse. A few days ago, we were all walking down the street, minding our own business. Nicky was trynig to smell in the poison ivy. Daddy was pulling him away from it. I wanted to go peepee on the bush in a yard near a house. Papa told me to stay out of the yard. Just an average walkie. Then, out from one of the yards came this big sandy colored dog. Nicky was angry to see him. I wanted to say hello. But the dog wasn't nice. He kept trying to get at me. Papa was pushing him away and trying to get me clear of him. Daddy picked Nicky up and carried him way down the street. I just wanted to go to Daddy and Nicky, but the dog wouldn't let me. Finally, Papa got the dog out of my way and I was able to go to Nicky. And Papa stayed between me and that mean dog and got us cleasr. He stayed back until we got far away. And he made sure that mean dog stayed on the other street.
This morning the same thing happened, only it was worse. Really worse. The dog came out again and ran at us. Daddy picked Nicky up and ran away and Papa tried to get the dog away from me. But all of a sudden. Pain. Seering pain. Oh, I had to scream. It hurt so bad. The other dog kept on coming and Papa go between us. The lady came out of the house and yelled at the dog. But it wouldn't listen. She couldn't control the dog and it kept on circling around me and Papa kept trying to push it away. Finally, a man came and took the dog away and we were able to go to where Nicky was.
And then Daddy noticed that my leg had a hole in it. Papa got really mad and told me to stay with Daddy while he went back down the street. He'd be right back. He didn't come right back. He was gone for awhile.
But then he did come back and we didn't go on with our walk like we normally did. That was fine with me because I was hurting. I just wanted to lie down. We walked home really fast. We got into the house and daddy talked on the little box for a bit. Then he put my leash back on and we went out again. Nicky and Daddy didn't come with us this time. We got in the car. And Papa drove us the way to the place he calls the doctors. It's where I go and they pinch off my nails with a thing that looks like Papas pliers. And sometimes they poke me with a sharp needle. They are usually very nice, but I don't know why they always want to poke me with needles. Papa calls it a shot. I've seen Papa do things he calls shots. They are not like my shots. His shots come in little glasses. Mine come with pointy sharp pins. It's not fair when you think about it.
After I saw the ladies at the big desk in the big room, we went into a little room. And we waited there for awhile. Then the doctor came. She's nice. But she pokes me with needles sometimes. This time she didn't give me a needle, or take off my toe nails. She was interested in the hole in my leg. She looked at it for a while and then talked with Papa.
It seems it needed something called surgery. I never had that before. I wonder if it tasted good. I hoped so,because up until now, I had a really awful day. But this surgery was sounding like it was tasty. I wanted some, but I was nervous and my leg still hurt. The doctor would give Papa the surgery and I could eat it in the car, when I knew we were going back home and I was safe.
Only I didn't go home. The doctor took me away to another room and put me in a little house, like the one I have in my bedroom. And I waited there for a little while. Papa didn't come with me. I was all alone. Where was Papa? What was Nicky doing? Was Daddy giving Nicky treats? Why did the hole in my leg hurt so much? All these questions were all bad pictures being stored in my album.
Finally, someone came out and there was that pick again. And I laid in the house for a little while longer before someone came and took me out. Then they stuck something in my front leg. It picked like the needed, but they didn't take it out. They left it there. And then I went to sleep. Fast asleep. I ran through some photo albums of running around on the baseball field and peeing on Daddy's hosta. I saw pictures of the other dogs I smelled on the red tree trunk and saw a picture of me peeing on it, too. I saw pictures of Daddy. And pictures of Papa. And pictures of Nicky. And pictures of Papa's pillow. And pictures of Daddy's shoe. And more pictures of Papa and those yogurt little treats I love. And Daddy and the teriyaki beef jerky I love.
And then I started to hear sounds and I opened my eyes. I could not see very well. I felt all woosey. My leg hurt. But the hole was gone. There was a little plastic tube thing sticking out of the place where the hole was. But even though the hole was gone, it still was very sore. And it hurt a little when I moved my leg. After a while I could see better and I felt better, but the pain came back. The sore was even worse than before.
I looked everywhere, but I could not see Daddy. I couldn't see Papa. I couldn't see Nicky. I was in this little house and I didn't see anyone I knew. I was lonely. I didn't want to get up, but some people made me get up and took me outside. I went peepee and poopoo. Boy did it hurt to go poopoo. It didn't hurt where the poopoo came out, but it hurt where the hole was. I wondered why those people put a plastic tube in my leg. It was hurting. If only the tube would be gone from there, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. But it hurt even worse when I tried to stretch to get the tube. I left it there. And I waited for Papa. I knew he would come for me. He wouldn't just leave me. Papa always comes back. He told me so. He told me he would always come back. But he never left me here before. He always left me at home. And now he left me here. And I got scared. What if Papa was mad because my leg had a hole in it and took me away because I was broken. But these people made the hole go away. It hurt more, well, different. It hurt different. So my hole was gone. But what if Papa didn't know the hole was gone? What would I do? Would I have to stay here. And hurt? I was sad. Very sad.
And then after a while, some people were trying to get me to come with them. But I didn't want to go. I just wanted to lie there and be sad. I was looking at pictures of my Papa and Daddy and Micky from the photo album in my head. I wished I could see them for real. And these people kelp asking me to go. Why didn't they leave me alone. I didn't want to go anywhere. I just wanted to remember. My myself. I hoped I wouldn't have to be by myself again. Alone. Lonely.
And then I thought I heard Papa. I looked all the way down the hall where I heard the voice, and thought it was him, but I still could see a little blurry, so I wasn't sure. But then he kept calling me and walking closer. And then I knoew it was him for sure. I got up and walked over to him. At last, my Papa was here. He came to see me. I hoped he would take me back home.
Papa led me back to the car. I jumped in,I was so excited. It hurt bad when I jumped. I should not have done that. But I was in the car. And Papa drove us home. When we got there, I saw Daddy and Nicky. And I went in the back yard and went peepee on my own grass. Daddy kept Nicky away from me. I could hear him yelping in the other room, the room where Papa keeps Nicky's food dish. Where all the nice smells come from. But I could hear him. He was crying. I wanted to go see him, but my leg still hurt. And Papa sat with me and held me and stroked my back. And Daddy gave me love. And Papa gave me love. And I felt better, but my leg still was sore. And my tummy felt a little queasy.
And Papa brought down my beds and my pillows and my blankey. And he sat on the floor with me. I wanted to lie down, but it hurt so bad. I didn't want to move. I stood for as long as I could and then Papa helped my lie down. It hurt and I yelped a little because of the pain. But it felt good to not be standing. And Papa gave me a hug and rubbed my belly. And he put his forehead on mine. And my mind snapped a picture of Papa with his forehead on mine. And I put it in my good photo album.
...and I knew I was going to be alright.
