The Life of a Dog Wheelchair

IMG_1433For those of us who have been blessed with a dog who gets around in a wheelchair we know what those wheels have meant for our dogs.

Freedom. Quality of Life.

More time on earth to smell the flowers. Chase bunnies and squirrels.

Smell all the funkiness of spring. Plow through fluffy snow.

Go for walks parading down the street as if to say, “Hey look world!  I can roll and I love life!”

Curl up at our owner’s feet.

Before Frankie passed last June, I recall looking at her wheelchair leaning against the living room wall. I couldn’t bear to look at them knowing she would soon be moving on and would no longer need them. Those wheels would never turn again with her wee small body in it, her stout front legs leading the way.

I was reminded of this again when my friend Kim, whose blog, Pugs and Pics I follow, did a post about her dog Vader’s wheelchair. Vader has been gone for some time now, and he was only able to use his wheels for a few months. But those months gave him a quality of life he would not have had otherwise. She recently wrote about finally having the courage to gift those wheels to a friend whose pug who needed them.

Her friend was apprehensive about getting a wheelchair. But Kim finally encouraged her to give Vader’s a try.

A few days later her friend wrote to her:  You wouldn’t believe how FAST Shimmie gets going in Vader’s chair. (Forgive me when someday I refer to it as Shim’s. That is bound to happen).

Kim wrote back, “I’m so happy Jane! And no worries. It’s Shimmie’s now.”

Tears instantly filled my eyes reading this. I remember the pit at the bottom of my stomach and how my heart hurt looking at Frankie’s wheels after she passed… still and silent. But one thing that kept me going through that grief was knowing I would set out one day to fill those wheels once again.

To give another little one a chance. A quality of life. Freedom. That the sound of wheels rolling through my house would someday be heard again.

Watching Joie experience the wheels for the first time,  that were once Frankie’s, now fitted for her, was once again like watching Frankie walk and roll for the first time.  Joie’s ears flying back, her tiny legs moving as fast as a centipede, off she went, to explore the world. To be a dog. To give life again to a dog wheelchair.

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 Photo credit:  Barry Adams with WI State Journal for recent article he wrote about me and Joie.

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If you have a wheelchair that is not being used, please consider donating it back to the company you got it from. Often times they can refurbish them and use them for another dog in need.

Here are some other ideas:

Sanctuaries that care for disabled animals such as LoveyLoaves Animal Sanctuary.

Donate to a dog rescue.

Donate to a local animal university.

Donate to your local vets office.

Donate to your local humane society.

If you have other ideas please add them in a comment below!

On Wisconsin: Elkhart Lake woman races to rescue of disabled dachshunds. A Feature in Wisconsin State Journal!

515f7a913d3dc.preview-620Photo courtesy of Barry Adams and Wisconsin State Journal

I was so thrilled when reporter Barry Adams of the Wisconsin State Journal contacted me a few weeks ago to do a story on Frankie, Joie and me.  I’m so happy with the wonderful article and his help in spreading the positive message about IVDD dogs and dogs in wheelchairs!. Thank you, Barry!!  Read the article here.

Forward March to 50: Two Things My Mother Forgot to Warn Me About When Getting Older

Every 1st and 3rd Thursday of the month until July 18th I will be sharing my thoughts about turning 50 which I will celebrate on July 18th.  And yes, I said, celebrate!

Today I want to share two things my mother forgot to tell me about aging.  Let’s just begin with saying, turkey and mirrors.  Maybe if you’ve already experienced these dirty little secrets you will know what I am talking about. But for those of you who haven’t, let me explain.

mirror

#1 of things my mother forgot to warn me about…

I was in my early forties when I encountered the trick a mirror played on me. I had been moving things around in our bedroom. I had a decorative mirror I took down from the wall and laid it on the bed until I could figure out where I would place it next (I think I heard a gasp and “Oh no! Not the mirror affect!)

Happy as could be, in my element of re-decorating, I was my joyful  little self re-arranging things. It was then time to hang the mirror as I had found a wonderful new spot for it. I bent over the mirror to pick it up, while glancing down. Now this gets rather ugly, so if you are squeamish you might want to stop reading.  But there in the mirror was someone I didn’t recognize!  All the skin that stayed somewhat firm on my face when I stood vertical, was now a saggy, sloppy mess hanging from the bones of my face– or so it appeared to be.  Was this just an illusion?

Illusion or not, it was my first glimpse into skin that was once so taut, was now heading south– and I don’t mean to Florida or a warmer climate. It was heading south without flip flops or a straw hat. It was not going on vacation, but will be around for some time to come. I won’t know how far south it will travel in the next few years as I continue to get older. But if I am lucky, and have my mom’s genes, I’ll be doing pretty good.

turkey

 

#2 of things my mother forgot to warn me about…

I’ve witnessed first hand the turkey affect on many people. Though never did I think it would happen to me. I’ve done my best to stay healthy, eat as well as possible, and stay in shape. But the turkey visited me this past early winter.

It was a blustery day and a turtleneck was in order to keep me warm. I pulled down my favorite black one that always fit snug around my neck.  I pulled it over my head and the coziness enveloped me… that is, until I looked into the mirror. That dang mirror again!  And this time it had a new surprise for me.

As I turned my head to the side I wondered what that was on my neck?  Taking my forefinger and feeling as if this was all a dream, I bravely flicked what seemed to be loose skin hanging under my chin! One flick to the right and it jiggled a bit like jello.  Another flick to the left and again it jiggled. I stretched my neck and stood as tall as I possibly could to see if it would disappear. No such luck– it still jiggled.

What if I held my head real still, I wondered?  Would anyone notice? After much back and forth I ripped off the turtleneck and threw it back on the shelf. I argued in my head I should just throw the darn thing away.  Nah, I thought.  I’m just having a bad neck day. Two days later I tried again. That darn turkey wasn’t leaving, I could tell.  I either had to accept it or live in misery.  I decided to accept fate as it was, though wondering why on earth my mother never warned me about this?

Well let me tell you, she had one darn good chuckle when I shared the news with her. And I laughed too. And we agreed that whoever made mock turtlenecks knew what they were doing. It was time. There was a rainbow of mock necks waiting for me. I stood tall and proud. I could do this.

And so it is. Turkey and mirrors. Though initially hard to face these things, I don’t dwell on them and do try to find some humor in it all.  I’m also reminded of how to truly live life through the eyes of my dogs. Joie in her wheels her little legs wobbly under her.  Kylie who has a large fatty tumor on her belly that sways back and forth when she walks. And now me with my jiggly turkey neck and gravity pulling me closer to the earth. We are the land of the misfits. None of us perfect, but all of us happy and in the moment of each others company.

I can’t control the aging process but I can control my attitude. So I say, Forward March to 50!

”  . . . and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror… ~Shane Koyczan