Rough day for my buddy

Butcher of Strats

Senior Stratmaster
Feb 28, 2022
They took them too. 😕
Only way the vet would do it
I can't figure out why
IDK man we so love them furry mates and they love us without question, then we need to get them to the doc and cannot explain it to them. Vet has Vet ways, we take them at their word and get it done so we can bring em home.
And finally they just keep loving us and seeming happy while we are all upset and worried that they had to see the vet which scared the hell out of them, except we brought them and told them they would be OK.
Ruckus looks fine and happy there?
YOU need some reassuring now!

Tone Deaf

Stratosaurus Magnificus
Platinum Supporting Member
Feb 12, 2009
New Jersey, USA
@Bob the builder

Just a personal observation....

When MY leg was amputated, even under the most powerful pain killers that I could get, the pain was unbearable. This began as they moved me from the surgical recovery to my bed in the Intensive Care Unit. You want to have heard a 61 year old man scream?

Then, I had to go thru several years of EMDR therapy. ( suggested by my Brother-in-Law who is a Naval Flight Surgeon ) to deal with the memory of actual amputation pain, and the residual Phantom Limb pain.

As a lifelong dog owner, I completely understand how stoic canines are. They just don't often show pain, but It's there for them nonetheless.
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Jan 23, 2022
Sinks Grove, WV
View attachment 621470
We've been dealing with problems with Ruckus the last few weeks.
Diagnosed with bone cancer in his leg.
All the blood tests and poking and x-raying and meds....doc came back and said he'd have to lose it but it ain't showing up no place else.
Hated to do it but I owe it to him to take care of him.
He doesn't seem in pain and he's resting pretty easy right now but he's minus one leg 😕
Oh, man, that's a bummer. He'll be hopping around in no time though. Give him some pats for me. Poor little baby. He's a cutie-pie.


Most Honored Senior Member
Jul 9, 2020
Republic of Gilead
Sometime back in the 50s on the family farm, middle of nowhere middle America, the dog ran into the field in front of my grandpa’s tractor; which type I don’t know, but it had spinning blades or tynes in the front. Grandpa couldn’t stop it until the dog’s hind legs were taken clean off just under the hips.

Gramps got out and hustled the dog back to the house, cleaned up and cauterized the wounds with whatever diy farm care stuff they had around back then, and the dog lived a happy life.

To be a dog.

To be a farmer.