Marco the TriPawd

A little over a year ago I was wandering the streets of Detroit. I’m not sure how I got there and I don’t really remember what kind of accident I was in, but when the person who took me to the animal shelter found me, the bone from my right, rear leg was exposed.

I woke up in the shelter and my leg was gone. So besides the worms they had to get rid of and the painful shots I had to endure, I also had to learn to walk as a TriPawd. In the month during which I recovered, I did my best to act like that leg was still there. And when the folks at the shelter determined that I was fit to be adopted, I was ready.

It was a Saturday and there were people all over the place looking to take some of my friends and me home but I wanted to make sure that I went with the the perfect people for me. When I saw mom, dad, and Nikki walk by my area, I heard them telling the story of their last dog, who died the previous Wednesday at the age of 16, I knew they were the ones for me. They looked at another dog first, but I wasn’t worried because I could just tell it was just like they were kicking the tires. When they walked by me again, I started doing my dance, running in circles and going up and down the step to my bowl so they could see that missing one leg would not slow me down.

I finally got to meet them in person in a little room. Mom and dad were sitting in chairs but Nikki was on the ground, so I made sure to run up to her to give her a bunch of kisses. The shelter gave me the name “Marco” and I liked it so I made sure that I ran to whomever said my name. That way, they would be sure to keep it for me. I rubbed all up against mom and Nikki, giving them kisses and allowing them to pet me as much as they wanted. I could tell that dad liked me but wasn’t a “touchy-feely” kind of owner so I gave him a cursory tail wag every now and then. I focused all my attention on the ladies in the family. After what seemed like only a minute, dad understood it was inevitable and said, “I guess we’re taking him home, huh?”

My first day in my new house was nerve-wracking for all of us. I had never been up and down tile landing stairs with only three legs. My family spent hours trying to coax me with treats, kisses, and everything else they could think of, but I didn’t trust those stairs. Finally, dad lay down some carpeting and bought carpet runners for the tile kitchen and the wood floors in the living room and hallway. I haven’t looked back since.

I want to make sure that my family knows they made the right decision so even though I have an obviously cute face, I make sure when I bark that all my teeth are exposed. I want them to know they’re protected so I bark at literally almost anything that walks by our window. Actually, the reason I’m barking is because I want whoever is walking by to come and play with me. So I bark to get their attention and then bark at them for not stopping to say hi.

When I run around the back yard, and yes I RUN, I hear mom or dad point out that you don’t even notice that I’m missing a leg. To be honest, I don’t even miss it sometimes. I get the occasional itch now and then that only a right, rear paw can reach but mom does a good job of taking care of it for me.

It has been 13 months since I moved into my new home and I love it. I have my own room that I sleep in. Sometimes, when mom and dad are up a little later than I would like to be, I’ll just get up and go to my room and plop down for the night. They have done everything they can to make me feel safe and comfortable, so I do the same in return. I know it was difficult for them to replace the dog they had just before me, but I have a feeling they are glad they picked me. What I won’t tell them is that I picked them.