My son adopted a puppy from the animal shelter in August of 2007.  He named him Francis, and his nickname was Frankie.   Frankie was black and gold with the floppie ears and face of a beagle.  A few days after he was adopted, he became ill.  My son called me for help, and we brought him to the vet’s office.   The doctor thought it was the parvo virus, which Frankie was probably exposed to before his vaccinations took effect.  The doctor didn’t try to sugarcoat the prognosis.  She said that even if he did survive the infection. the damage the virus causes to the neurological system and the heart could ultimately cause death.  We decided to give him a chance to survive.

And survive he did but, unfortunately, not unscathed. His front legs were very weak and uncontrollable, and he had frequent movements of his mouth I later found were commonly called chewing gum seizures. He sat with us in bed every night as we watched television. I would place him on my chest and massage his weak front legs hoping to bring some feeling back to them, or to relieve any muscle cramps he may have been experiencing from the nerve damage. Frankie didn’t seem to be in any pain or suffering except fot his basically useless front legs. He would scoot everywhere to get to his destination. I put a doggie wrap around his mid section to prevent irratation from the floor or carpet agaist his skin.

I researched doggie wheelchairs on the internet. Most were very expensive. I decided to make one instead with pvc pipe. It came out very well, but he was afraid of it.

The most progress came when we bought him his very own life jacket and started swimming together. His front legs became stronger and more coordinated. Eventually, he was able to stand, then walk. His first jerky, sideways steps were thrilling for him and us. We played together frequently. There was nothing like his enthusiatic smile to get me off my tired ole butt.

Frankie lived for about two years. I found him lifeless in the yard after I had forgotten to put him back in the house before leaving to run a short errand. I beat myself up for a long time about that. The guilt was almost unbearable. It was very hot that day, and he had just taken a long drink from the hose that I was using to water a plant. A call from my husband came on my cell phone asking to be picked up after leaving his vehicle at the dealership for a minor problem. I just put the hose down and left, forgetting to put Frankie back in the house. He may have fallen on a slight incline and been unable to get up. My theory was that all that water he drank partially regurgitated and was aspirated into his lungs during his struggle to get back up. I will probably always carry the memories of that guilt trip with me. Guilt trips are are always hard to return from, espcially when you can’t revisit the destination or find the bridge that will take you back to the road to correct the thoughtless act that created the guilt.

The veterinarian’s office staff sent me a sympathy card with a wonderful poem that describes a beautiful place where we will meet our beloved pets in the afterlife when we arrive. It is called “The Rainbow Bridge”. It meant so much to me to know that, perhaps, there truly is a bridge that gets you back to your beloved pets and people too. You can return to the place where your guilt trip began and erase those memories and know that you are truly loved and forgiven.