My Baby Boy's Name is Pookie,
born December 15, 2006 in Phoenix Arizona,
and this is his story.

February 07, 2007 we went and picked up Pookie.
He was a Valentines' Day gift from my husband.
Pookie came to live with us; he got his name from Garfield.
In the show, the orange cat has a teddy bear named Pookie.
Our little boy looked like a little teddy bear.
We have two cats that he loves to play with.

A week later, he was potty trained, learned to sit, come, and stay.
We moved back to a small town called St. Johns.
A month after living there,
Pookie was so fragile and was running around our home
and there was a big tool on the ground that we didn't see,
'cause it was under a chair.
He had run under the chair and hit his leg on the tool
and we heard him screaming.
We ran into the room and Pookie was hiding next to the bed.
We didn't know what was wrong; all we heard was his crying.
We put him in a crate and took him to Snowflake to see a vet.
It took the vet two hours to get back into town
to see him around twelve in the morning.
We went in and he took an X-ray of his arm.
It was broken. He said it would heal after a few weeks.
Six weeks later, Pookie had recovered.
He learned to jump up and round.
He loved to chase his tail.
When he would catch it,
he would fall on the ground and still try to spin in circles.
He would love to get full of cookies and milk bones.
He loves to wear his jackets.
He learned to love taking baths.
When you would ask, "you want a bath?" He would get hyper, run in the bathroom and jump in the bathtub.
He would get his hair blow dried and a trim once a week.
If Pookie didn't get his bath, he would put his legs in the water and then run outside to get dirty, so he could get his bath.
We had gotten another dog, Spike, for Pookie to play with. He was one month younger than Pookie, but he is a Rottweiler. He grew bigger and weighed more than him, but that didn't mater to Pookie. He loved his new brother that would play with him.

On July 26, 2007 we had chained the dogs outside and left home for a few hours. We didn't know that it had started raining, and soon there was a thunderstorm.
The dogs had a house they could reach to get out of the rain,
but they got scared and broke their leashes.
Pookie remembered the walk we went on
and he went looking for us in the rain and storm.
He had gone to my neighbor's house and played with the neighbor's kid. They had taken a picture of him
and left him outside because they didn't know whose dog it was.
When we got home, we found both of our dogs gone,
and the house door wide open.
We thought that Pookie ran inside,
because we taught Spike how to open the door.

We found Spike on his couch and Pookie gone.
We couldn't find him anywhere.
We drove all night, calling for him.
When morning came around six, we parked the car and walked around calling his name. We walked for hours. We made 4 posters for the stores around town. We didn't know anything.

We went door-to-door, asking neighbors and friends if they have seen him. Our neighbors who had taken his picture showed it to me, and made some flyers for me.

We had put more and more posters up every day he went missing. I couldn't sleep or eat, I was so heartbroken.
Around the fifth day, I wanted everyone to know I meant business, so we spent all night making 150 posters. We put one on every major stop sign, hoping to get a call. We got a call the sixth day.

My husband's cousin told us that her sister-in-law had been bragging about taking our dog and selling him to her aunt for twenty dollars. We were up and out the door looking for her.

We went to her friend's home and asked if they had seen our puppy or heard anything about him from her. They told us "no." We went out again looking around.

A few minutes after we had left, her friend came running down the street. Her husband remembered hearing that she had sold my baby to her aunt. I couldn't believe that one of my old friends and relative by marriage would do that to a person. We searched all day.

We had gone to a nearby town called Concho, that's where the aunt lived. We knocked and knocked on her door, called for Pookie, but no one was there. We went to one of the neighbors and asked if she had seen him.

She said "no," and told us that the aunt not only lives here, but also in Joseph City, a two hour drive away. We got a call from the girl who had taken Pookie. She had admitted she had given our boy to her aunt.

We went back to town and found the girl she called her aunt. I told her that we had been looking for him and how devastated I was that he was gone. I was so excited to hear that it might really be him. We asked her a few things about the dog she had, and she described him so well it couldn't be any other dog than our boy. I had rushed to Holbrook on the seventh day to meet up with her. I waited in the parking lot of a store, wondering where and when they were going to be there. I was sitting in my car waiting when I heard his bark.

My baby boy; it was him.
I got out of the car, turned around, and there he was, on the back of her car. I ran up to him. He jumped on me and started to lick my face and hand. He was so happy. I was so relived that we had found our boy. She told me that he is a special dog, and I told her more about him. We took him home and vowed never to let him out of our sights again. He was sick, 'cause the lady smoked, and was sneezing for a week, with a runny nose. I gave him 2 baths and trimmed his hair.

On December 11, 2007, they were playing and getting too hyper. Spike had reared up in the air, fell hard to the ground, and Pookie was under him. We heard him screaming. He bolted to his room and had his paw high in the air. My husband picked him up. Pookie's hand was flopping around. We knew disaster had struck.

We rushed him to the hospital in Show Low.
They took an X-ray and found out his right arm was broken between his wrist and elbow.

The doctor wasn't in till Thursday, and I couldn't take him back home, hurting the way he was. They put a brace on his arm and told me they could do a surgery. They would put two screws and a fake bone to hold his arm and hand together. On Thursday, I had called to ask what time he could be picked up.

They told me the doctor was delayed and couldn't do his surgery until Friday. I was ok with it, but I wanted them not to wait so long.
They had put a brace on his arm.

Thursday afternoon at 4:00pm the intern called me
and told me they couldn't do his surgery for three weeks,
because that's how far out the doctor was booked.

I yelled at him and told him either they should have told me that the first day, or at some point during either of the two conversations when I called the first two times. I told him they couldn't charge me for the days he was in the hospital waiting for the doctor. He told me he would talk to the doctor and see what he said.

He called me back in five minutes and told me the doctor now wanted to take a look at Pookie's chart and talk to me.
Friday around Ten, the doctor called me and told me
that Pookie now wasn't getting enough blood to his leg,
and wanted to do his surgery on Monday December 17, 2007.

I told him I wanted him to get the surgery,
but the doctor said it may not heal and he would either have to try again or amputate his leg. We were devastated with the thought that he would have to get surgery and that it might fail and wind up having to lose his leg. We had a hard choice to make.

We couldn't find anyone to help us with the cost of surgery
and didn't think it would work.
I posted a "Help Wanted" ad on the Internet, to see what I should do.

Out of Twenty-One replies, 3 people said to put him down.
I was upset that they thought he should lose his life because of a broken leg. I had replied to them that he is my baby boy,
and if you look into his eyes, it makes you smile.
The rest told me more information about dogs,
that they knew that had three legs and how they do great,
just like they were born with three legs.

I was relieved to hear so many replies
and really appreciated hearing so many good stories and thoughts, even one from a vet. December 15, 2007, we went to visit Pookie in the Hospital.

He was sleepy, and despite being drugged-up, still showed how happy he was to see us. He was giving us kisses and wanting to go home.
It was hard to leave him, but I really needed to see him.

We talked to the nurse who was going to assist the doctor in his surgery. We told them if there is such a low chance of him getting better, and if he were to lose too much blood, to go ahead and amputate his leg.

Sunday December 16, 2007

My name is Chuck Rowe.
Recently I adopted a beagle named Willie from the local Humane Society. At the time, Willie was 9 months old and was left at the Humane Society with a broken front left leg.

His friends at the society took good care of him and had his leg set with a cast. But it seems no one is interested in a dog with a broken leg, especially if there is some chance of nerve damage.

He was the sweetest puppy I had ever seen, so we took him home.

But after several months of physical therapy, it appears Willie's leg has been too damaged. So he is now scheduled to have his leg removed in a week and a half.

I am actually looking forward to this, as Willie has a very difficult time walking and playing with his bum leg. I am attaching pictures for your review. We will send more when his leg is actually removed and he has adapted.

Chuck Rowe
Lombard, IL
Saturday December 1, 2007

Willie had his surgery this last Monday (12/10)
and is doing incredibly well.
He is still on pain pills, so most of the time he sleeps a lot.

But at the end of each dosage,
we start to see the usual puppy in him coming out.
On Thursday, we had to take him shopping with us,
as we had to buy him some sweaters.

Since they shaved him for the surgery,
he is very cold when he goes outside.

He was the hit of the evening, at the store.
We even had people offer us money for him!

He is just such a loving creature.

Monday December 17, 2007