I recently finished reading, "Almost Perfect: Disabled Pets and the People Who Love Them" by Mary Schafer. As you can imagine I could relate to many of the stories… and yes, I shed quite a few tears. But not tears of sympathy or sadness, but tears of joy and gratitude for those that take in disabled animals and love them. A Frankie fan, Nancy, sent me this article about this book that her daughter found and it says it perfectly. The article was on SFGate and is re-printed below.
I think the first few paragraphs are esepcially poignant and something we need to understand.
"Inspiration springs from many sources, but a dog with disabilities is not
high on the list.
Pets in such circumstances are often looked on with pity, accompanied with
the thought that maybe the "poor thing" should be put down to end its
suffering. But in the absence of pain, animals adjust surprisingly well to
physical limitations.
As a UC Davis surgeon once said when asked about dogs and amputation,
"People tend to humanize the loss of a limb and dogs don't. As long as
they aren't in pain and doing the things they love to do, they're happy.
We don't appreciate that ability in dogs; they adjust to their new
lifestyle."
And that's just what Ruby did. When the feisty Labrador/Doberman mix was
afflicted with a degenerative disease, it appeared that her
Frisbee-chasing days at Fort Funston were over. But Ruby adjusted fine, as
evidenced by her happy image that graces the cover of a book titled,
"Almost Perfect: Disabled Pets and the People Who Love Them." Guardian
Vicki Tiernan talks about her spirited dog:
"Theodore Roosevelt once said: 'Speak softly and carry a big stick; you
will go far.' My Ruby took that edict to heart, though she clearly thought
the former president meant it literally. She loved to prance around
carrying sticks the size of tree limbs. In the last year of her life, a
devastating disease robbed her of the use of her rear legs, but this did
not deter her in the least. Using wheels to support her non-functional
hind appendages, she rolled gleefully along trails, carrying sticks as
wide as the path, whapping the occasional human kneecap and leaving a
trail of smiles in her wake.
"Ruby came to me as a tiny creature, just a few weeks old when she was
torn from her litter after her mother was sent to a shelter. What Ruby
lacked in girth and early nurturing, however, she more than made up for in
spirit: 3 pounds of cooing, napping puppy sleeping in the crook of my arm
one minute, ready to take on the world the next; that was Ruby.
"As she grew into a healthy 58-pound dog, the Frisbee became her passion.
It was the perfect channel for her boundless energy and an invaluable
adjunct to training and bonding. She was a joy to watch. A study in
flawlessly focused intention, she soared across every landscape, body and
mind singularly riveted on the goal of reaching that flying object in ever
faster, faster, faster time, paws barely touching earth, sheer ecstasy on
her face. And how she loved an audience! Her eyes would always dart about
excitedly to see if there were onlookers as she ran back to me with her
prize.
"The years passed happily with lots of flying Frisbees, sticks, smiles and
treats. And joy, always joy. Then, at the age of 11, Ruby was struck by
degenerative myelopathy, a disease similar to multiple sclerosis in
humans.
"Within months, her rear legs were virtually lifeless and she required a
canine wheelchair to get around. It seemed a particularly cruel twist of
fate that a dog so in love with athletic pursuits would be struck with a
disease that robbed her of mobility.
"I felt sadness over her loss and concern about her future. Remarkably,
however, Ruby's spirit was not daunted in the slightest. That dog would
have been happy to be in any park with NO functioning legs. When I placed
her in the canine wheelchair for the first time, it took her about five
seconds to discover that the odd-looking contraption returned the gift of
mobility.
"Powered by her forelegs, she took off and never looked back. In her first
wheel-bound foray to Fort Funston, she quickly turned her wheelchair into
an off-road vehicle, veering gleefully off the path and soaring over dune
and dale.
"Frisbees were now a part of Ruby's past, but she seemed to have no
regrets about letting go of that cherished activity. Her focus was on what
was in front of her and what she still had, not what was lost. She could
still run, greet, sniff, mooch treats, and prance about sporting tree
limb-sized sticks, and she loved every minute of it.
"Ruby went on to inspire virtually everyone we met with her persistence
and sheer joy. Folks were entranced as they watched her: Here was a dog on
wheels, and she was having every bit as much fun as the other dogs in the
park. I realized that her strong will was powerful life energy. When
channeled appropriately, that kind of energizing force can be impressive
in its power to help one through life's most formidable challenges.
"Until her last day on Earth, Ruby found all of life's biggest sticks and
cruised joyfully over every impediment in her path. That's a lesson we can
all take to heart."
"Almost Perfect: Disabled Pets and the People Who Love Them," is available
at www.almostperfectbook.com. Partial proceeds benefit a rescue
organization in Greece called Animal Welfare Karpathos, which was
co-founded by one of the book's authors.