So, Rocky is missing a leg. When she arrived at the Humane Society as a stray, it was severely broken. After trying to fix it and numb her pain with two pain patches (the vet said she must have been pretty drugged up), she was still in pain and the leg wasn't healing. She was right around 4 months old, in good (yet, heavily medicated) spirits, so they amputated it. When I first got her, it had only been two weeks since the surgery and she was still a little wobbly. I told her that she would have one week where I would pick her up and carry her if she needed it, but that she needed to learn how to get around on her own not only because she will eventually get to be 50-60 pounds, but for her overall well-being, she needed to be a "normal" dog.
The first day was tough, she was scared of the stairs going up to my apartment, so I carried her the first time. The second time, Lucille offered additional support by running up the stairs and running back down to encourage Rocky and showing her hoe it's done. I gave her a few pushes from the rear and she made her way up. The third time, she stopped at each landing, but she made it up all three flights by herself. That's how she got the name Rocky. I like to think of Lucille as the boxing coach from that movie, cheering her on and giving her tough love and incentive to get up those damn stairs.
Now she runs up and down the stairs like a champ, sometimes running up a flight, then down, and back up again. All the while, I wish I had a boom box blaring "Eye of the Tiger" for her.
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