The phone rang interrupting my writing.
"Mom, Rowdy broke his leg. It's terrible, mom! We've got to get him to the vet. He may have to have it amputated." Now, my daughter is not a person prone to panic. She's rather cautious when it comes to drama. So when she called at 1:30 to tell me my son's dog had broken his leg and needed to get to the vet, I took her seriously. Five minutes later, I stood looking down at poor Rowdy. He immediately struggled to get to his feet. His left front leg just hung at his side like his shoulder was dislocated. His foot was turned at a very odd angle. It did look like he'd broken it. It looked like he may have broken it in two places. I was worried he wouldn't let us pick him up and put him in the truck. But he did.
When we got to vet's, it turned out to be worse than we thought. It was nerve damage. He'd so wrenched his leg that he simply couldn't move it. It didn't have any feeling in it at all. So now, Rowdy is taking cortizone and antibiotics. He's staying in my back yard and we won't know for two months if he'll need it amputated. It makes me cry to just type this post. I know he's just a dog. But he is a good dog. When my son died, I got to keep Rowdy. Only problem is he's so big, that my back yard was more like a cage than a yard. So my grandsons took him in and he's been free to roam acres of land at my daughter's.
I've always loved Rowdy. I loved him because my son loved him. Chad thought Rowdy was the greatest dog and often let his girls bathe him in the backyard then let him sleep near their beds at night. Since my son died, Rowdy has become a part of our entire family. He minds so well. If I tell him to go lie down, he does it. If I say, "no, boy", then he doesn't climb on me or try to come in the house. If it wasn't for my husband, I'd give him a bath and keep him here at my house.
The vet has no idea what kind of dog he is, but his neck is so large that he cannot wear a collar. It slides right over his head. He is built like a giant yellow Rottweiller. He's basically a mutt, but reminds me of a large Old Yeller with huge golden tiger eyes. He'll eat a coyote for lunch if it comes around the house. But he loves children and is a snuggle bug if you let him climb into your lap---which you would never do because he weighs 85 pounds and is very, very big.
It's odd that I am writing about an emergency phone call right now. This morning before my day began, I wrote my devotional for Wednesday's dailyIMPACT. I wouldn't have guessed this would be the way my day turned out after writing that post.
We do not know what today holds. But we know Who holds today. And though I have no idea whether Rowdy will get well, I know it matters to God that it matters to me and the children. And He will take care of it all. We covet your prayers that his nerve damage heals. selahV
[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2008]