HAPPILY EVER AFTER
before carport, where he tried very hard to squeeze his large frame under a very small car. As we got closer, I turned on my penlight. I could see that something was very wrong. When I shined the penlight into his eyes I couldn’t see a pupil, iris, or anything resembling either one. I feared he was blind. Eventually, we were able to slip a lead around his neck and pull him out from underneath the car. We took him straight to an emergency vet to make sure that he wasn’t in any immediate danger. After we had him on the lead, he would actually let us touch him, hold him, and pet him. The doctor said he wasn’t in any urgent danger, so we took him home and found a kennel for him. Because he was blind, I was terrified that he would be aggressive with the other animals in our house. But he never showed one ounce of aggression, not towards us or our cats and dogs. The next morning, we took him to Stage Road Animal Hospital (our regular vet). Dr. Pearce confirmed our fears: his sight was gone and could not be saved. We also found out that he was between 1–2 years old, full of intestinal parasites, heartworm positive, and suffering from a broken hip. As we x-rayed his hip to assess the full damage, we found something horrifying—buckshot (from a shotgun shell). Dr. Pearce decided to do more extensive x-rays and found that his head, face, and back legs were riddled with buckshot. This poor dog had been shot at least once, probably twice, at some point during his puppyhood. The mystery of his blindness was, unfortunately, solved. We were told that he would need orthopedic surgery, heartworm treatment, vaccinations, deworming, and a whole lot of love. Curtis and I were concerned that he would never be able to have a normal life, so we heartbreakingly discussed euthanasia for a few days. Most people thought that this would be the best thing for him. I finally went and asked Dr. Pearce what he thought. He told me that the dog could live a
normal and happy life in a home where he was safe and wouldn’t need his sight. It was settled then—we were all in. We decided to name him Magoo (corny, huh?). A few weeks later, when he had gained enough weight to have orthopedic surgery on his hip, Dr. Pearce went in and removed the head of his femur. The doctor told us that he would always limp, but it wouldn’t cause him pain. It has been about a month since Magoo’s surgery now. He walks with no pain and actually trots sometimes. He plays with toys, wags his tail at us, and even begs to have his belly rubbed! Some habits still remain from his life of torment and abuse—he barks and runs away from everyone who gets near him except for my husband and me, and he won’t accept food or treats from anyone but us. But, if you were him, would you? He will start his heartworm treatment this month; after which, he will be healthier than he has ever been.
backlegs Small dots are buckshots
xray of headsmall dots are buckshot
We thought briefly about finding him another home, but in my heart of hearts, I knew he was ours from the minute I shined the penlight into those sad, scared eyes. Everyone tells me that “he is one lucky dog,” but I think my husband and I are really the lucky ones. I would like to say a VERY special thank you to the wonderful staff and Dr. Pearce at Stage Road Animal Hospital. They have helped us in so many ways, and I could never leave my babies with anyone else! I would also like to thank all of the amazingly caring people that donated funds to help with Magoo’s surgery and treatments. I could never tell you all how much that meant to us and Magoo. And thank you so much to Jamie Downey and The American Dog Magazine for letting me tell Magoo’s story and helping us put a name and face to animal abuse in this country.
The almost healed insicion
The American Dog Magazine | Summer 2011 119