My mailbox has been flooded with notes from friends and neighbors. Everyone is wondering what happened to me. People have seen my bandages and it seems that there are rumors, rumors and more rumors about my health. I haven't seen rumors like this since I went to the firehouse in San Francisco. Now there's a place for rumors, one of the best. Let me give you the true story straight from the dog's mouth.
Last July I took a tumble off a large barge. I fell into a little boat and injured my left leg. I was working in my capacity of friendly and loyal companion following my folks everywhere they go, when this accident happened. So now I have been placed off duty, and I'm hoping that I am on a paid disability leave.
They took me to the local vet in St. Jean de Losne. He gave me some pills. I felt a little better after a couple of vet visits, but my leg still hurt and my folks noticed that I was walking funny.
When we reached Roanne, I visited a new doctor, a very gentle woman. She spoke French to me while she examined my leg. It was nice. One day I went to see her and she gave me a shot that knocked me out. I was woozy when I woke up, and I saw my folks and the doctor looking at black pictures of me in skeletal form. Was I OK? It was hard to know, because they were speaking in French.
Next, we went to Lyon to see a specialist. What now? On January 11th a little camera was inserted to my left knee and photographs were taken. Oh my! They knocked my out again, and I learned later that I had an operation to repair my torn ligament.
I am home now and feeling fine. The surgery was successful, but apparently I am not allowed to run or go up and down stairs for the next two months. So now I live in wheelhouse and each night guard the front door. I don't mind the night watch; I have been sleeping a lot during the day anyway. I just hope the captain gives me a square on the watch chart. I would like to get a few squares ahead so I can be off during the summer when there are more night time activities.