I really wanted a dog.  No, I needed a dog.  Since I was a wee tad, from my earliest memories, I was surrounded by dogs.  My Grandmother bred, raised and showed Chihuahuas.  By the time I was 3 years old, I helped.  The privilege of staying up late and the wonders of watching the birth of a new litter, were not lost on my young self.  Because of this, and my Grandmother’s patient teachings, I’d always wanted to be a vet.

Much older now, retired, and having had dogs beside me all my life, my beloved Wire Fox Terrier (read “Terror”), Butch, died after 14 years.  I’d raised German Shepherds and Collies, but then found a good match in “Terrors” - stubborn, sturdy, smart...  I missed him terribly.

After a year of grieving, I felt ready.  I was determined this time to find a rescue pup.  I didn’t need a “papered” dog.  I knew that there were too many abused, abandoned animals in our world to do anything else.

I found him on the 2nd day of searching.  What a cute, CUTE, little guy!  We played ball in the exercise pen.  He chased it AND brought it back!  But hold on!  Someone else had “put in” for him.  I’d have to wait twenty-four hours and see if this intruder would come and claim him.  I got no sleep that night, and the busy signals upon calling the shelter the next day, didn’t improve my mood. 

I finally gave up trying to call around 3PM, and drove across town to the shelter.  Waiting my turn in line, I got my chance at the front desk.  Was he still there?  I glanced down at my copy of his Kennel Card and saw the forlorn intake picture of the pup I’d fallen in love with. 
  He looked so pitiful!  Was he still there?

OH YES, he WAS.  The paperwork written, the fees exchanged, I could pick him up from neutering surgery the very next day.  I was so excited, I didn’t sleep that night either.

I can’t explain why this pup means so much to me.  It must have something to do with rescue.  I’ve loved all my dogs and given the best of my time and efforts to train, and take care of them.  They’ve given me the reward of their faithfulness, and trusting friendship.
Cody is so special. 

When Cody was about 5 months old, he started limping off & on in the front, mostly his left leg.  Sometimes he’d cry out while bouncing around or chasing the ball.  We quit playing ball, but an active pup like this guy won’t stay still!  After 3 trips to the vet, and finally x-rays that were sent to a specialist, I found out that he had an inherited joint problem called Elbow Displasia.  Very unfortunate genetics, but becoming increasingly common in more dogs everywhere.  It affects more males than females and Cody’s prognosis was not good.  Without surgery, he’d always be in pain and eventually need to be put down. 

I went back to work part time to pay for his surgery.  It was very expensive, but I never had a thought otherwise.  He’s my dog, I adopted him and take that responsibility seriously.  I love him and would have borrowed the money (or robbed a bank!) to get his legs fixed.

 

CODY'S THANKS

At 5 months old and full of vim, it showed up clear one day,
He’d come up lame, not his to blame, but his heredity.

Adopted, loved and wanted, Cody is his name.
My buddy, pal, pain in the butt, to me it’s all the same.

He didn’t know what happened, nor what lay right ahead.
But that he hurt while walking,… and jumping!, Just plain dread.

So to the vet he’s taken, doctors needed now,
Expense be damned, he’s not to blame, but, jeez-oh-holy-cow!

He looks downright ridiculous, they shaved his legs you know.
No pictures taken now of course, just wait until he grows.
(his hair back at least!)

He’ll dream of chasing sheep or cows, for that’s his only need,
His legs are fixed up right you see, they’ll hold him well in steed.

The doc says that he’ll do just fine, it’ll take a month to mend.
We thank you all for your thoughtful care,
He is, you know, my friend.
 

Thanks to you all at Hume Vet. Hospital, Dr. Melida Hedburg, DVM, and VSS of NM and Dr. Peter Schwarz, DVM, in Albuquerque, NM, for taking care of my Cody. 

(Cody)

He’s 2 1/2 now.  Smart as a whip, knowing both voice and hands signals for come, sit, and stay.  I taught him the hand signals early on…  I thought that he was deaf or at least partially so, but came to find out he was just ignoring me!  He really was awful at first.  Puppy bites, headstrong and very vocal.  Bark, bark, bark!  Quick to house train though.  Patience, love, more patience… he’s the best there is now.