At Least He's Not A One-Eyed Jack

Friday, on the way to the garage, I saw my (formerly Puppy) Jack rushing towards me across the porch. He was only using three legs! In fact, he held his right front leg out to the side. It looked like it was dislocated.

You can't keep a good dog down. Jack immediately jumped up and put his healthy left leg on my thigh, dancing around on his two good back legs. When I gently shooed him down, he was careful not to put his right front leg on the porch. He hopped around, hoping for a handful of cat kibble. While eating it, he cautiously rested his right front paw on the porch boards, putting no weight on it.

I sent a text to Farmer H immediately that something was wrong with Jack's leg. He said he'd look at it when he got home from his Storage Unit Store in a couple hours. Jack wasn't whimpering, but I know it had to bother him to be semi-immobile. Jack is ALL DOG, into everything, rushing here and there, yipping and yapping. But not now.

I tried to reason with myself that he'd be fine. After all, hadn't I been startled to see a young Juno walking about on her front wrists, with her paws flopping? And she was fine in two days. I guess she just had a sprain. Mentally, I was preparing myself for a trip to the vet with Jack. I'm pretty sure his lady is open on Saturday mornings. Even if Farmer did not agree, I was taking my Jack to the doctor if he wasn't better in a day.

When I came home from my errands, I met Farmer H on his tractor down by the creek. I saw Copper Jack poke his head out of the woods and trot towards us. He stopped midway, looking over his shoulder. I'm sure he was waiting for Jack, who did not appear. I drove to the Mansion, and Copper Jack took off running that direction, through the foliage instead of on the Farmer-H-maintained gravel road. He was there when I came out of the garage, but there was no sign of my Jack, or Juno. Farmer H said later that both Jacks and Juno had been following him, our little Jack keeping up just find, running on three legs, occasionally putting down the fourth.

Saturday morning, when I left for town, there was Jack, romping up the porch steps to await his cat kibble. He looked just fine. In fact, when I came home, he and his partner in name and crime met me behind the garage as I was getting the groceries out.

Looks like our little fella is going to be okay. Farmer H said that when he returned from the auction Friday night, both Jacks jumped off the concrete carport to chase the scattering squirrels. "That's when I knew he was fine. If he can jump off that three-foot drop into the back yard."

"Well, that might be how he hurt it to begin with. Or else Copper Jack got too rough when they were wrestling. They bite each others legs and roll around."

Jack is a sturdy little guy. He's built to last.