To be honest, I have no memories of anything having to do with one year ago. I was knocked out, flat on my butt with several attractive women hovering over me and attending to my every need. No, my memories pick up again sometime in the evening when I finally roused myself enough to pay attention to where I was and what was going on.
There was a difference, for sure, but there was no pain. And there were the women. If I were not a dog, I would have been majorly impressed. There was the really pale and rather ethereal one who was in charge. There was the dark and incredibly serious one with the Australian accent who kept pronouncing my name with the accent on the first syllable. And then there were the minions, the ones I ordered around just with a glance. Man, what a life.
I have since come to terms with the loss of my leg. I still don’t buy the story my Woman and my Man fed to me about cancer. After all, my leg never hurt me and I never limped or begged for mercy the way some of you did. I still know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was coerced into going to sleep with all these lovely women nearby and then the leg fairies stole my leg by stealth and under cover of darkness. I have resigned myself to knowing that I was victim of something equivalent to the sirens, the lovely ladies who called to sailors and lured them into the briny depths. I didn’t know there were leg sirens or I would have lashed myself to the bumper of my Woman’s car the same way the sailors lashed themselves to their ships.
Looking back on this year, I have learned a lot. I learned that I am much more capable than I ever thought I was. I have heard my Man call me a weenie, and I guess I was. I try not to be a weenie now, though. I think I am braver and stronger now than I was a year ago. I got over many of my fears and plunged ahead, led by the fearless humans in my pack. My Woman expects great things of me and I don’t want to let her down, so I follow on. Sometimes she asks things of me that make me pee on the floor, but she encourages me and loves me and helps me overcome. So there. I’m a lucky guy and I know it. First, my Man stopped the car. Second, my Woman put me in her lap and never let go (even when I gave her mange). And third, I got a new chance when the sirens or fairies or whatever took away my leg. My folks love me a lot and spoil me, and I know I’m a lucky guy.
Love, Dakota
