Frankie, my dachshund, ruptured a disk in her back at the age of six. After surgery, physical therapy, swim therapy and acupuncture and no change in Frankie's hind legs, my heart became heavy with sorrow.
The statistics were not on our side as we approached three months doing all I knew to help her. But Frankie's legs remained listless with no signs of improvement. The years of having to express her bladder and bowels lay in front of me and seemed daunting. What kind of life would she and I have? Would we ever return to normal again? Would Frankie become depressed because she couldn't walk and run like a regular dog? Could I really care for a handicapped dog? All these thoughts spun round and round in my mind. Even with the overwhelming grief of how things used to be and what I was now facing, euthanizing Frankie was never an option. My decision to keep helping her was based on one important factor. If her quality of life was where it should be, she deserved every chance to be a dog.
Learning to accept what life had thrown at Frankie and I was key to moving forward. After talking with the veterinarian who did Frankie's surgery I was urged to get her a doggie wheelchair. The vet felt this could improve Frankie's chances of gaining some mobility again, as well as keep her muscle tone strong and her spirit alive and healthy.
Frankie's wheelchair arrived via the UPS man three weeks after we ordered it. Tears rolled down my face as I un-wrapped the box. I knew deep in my heart this was about to change our lives for the better. Frankie took to her new way of walking with a little enticement of dog biscuits placed several inches apart down the street in front of our home. Once she began to move, she kept on rolling and before I knew it, we had rolled all the way around the block.
The next fork in my path was overcoming what others may think of me and the fact I put my dog in a wheelchair. I was concerned people may make fun of Frankie or that they would think it was unfair of me to do this to her. But I knew Frankie was happy and living her life just as she did before. She just looked a little different now. If I were to teach others acceptance, I would need to hold my head high and not be afraid to take Frankie out in public. I set my mind to the fact that just like a human who cannot use their back legs, dogs are no different. Their spirits, minds and personalities are still there. Frankie was still Frankie. She just needed a little help getting around.
Frankie taught me the true meaning of acceptance. Through each step of her healing, she accepted the things I was doing to try and help her. She has accepted her new way of walking as just the way it is. No big deal. Even when not in her cart, she scoots along happy to follow me wherever I go. She is doing what all dogs naturally do, which is face adversity with dignity and grace.
One of the biggest lessons I have learned from Frankie is accepting challenges as a way to learn and grow. And by doing so, a blessing is always under the surface waiting to bring much bliss to your life. Dogs are here to teach us tolerance, acceptance, resilience and unconditional love. Frankie continues to teach me all that and more, by rolling through life with all the zest that only a dog can have. And I have promised her I will accept all she teaches me and pass it on.
Barbara Techel is the author of "Frankie, the Walk 'N Roll Dog," a 2008 National Best Book awarded by USA Book News. A true, inspirational story about her dachshund that started out walking in life until a spinal injury leaves her paralyzed. Frankie is custom fit for a wheelchair and learns to keep on rolling. Visit Barbara at http://www.joyfulpaws.com |
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