Tuukka loves his crate because we put him in it as soon as we got him home the first day and never lock the crate door. He sleeps in it at night. It is his home… so when we leave the house for short periods, we put him in the crate with the door open, and close the bedroom door where the crate is located. The puppy has the entire room to roam… this is apparently not as good an idea as we originally thought.
Last Saturday we were out for two hours. When we got home we did not hear the barks or yelps we expected upon Tuukka’s hearing the back door open and close, or hearing our voices. When I went upstairs he was not just inside the bedroom door as usual… in fact, I did not see him at all in the room. As I walked around the bed I saw that the three plants in the plant stand were now on the floor surrounded by dirt. The plant stand was a few feet away, laying on it side. I figured the dog was under the bed… ashamed, or eating a pair of my shoes.
It turns out Tuukka was actually right there. He had somehow wedged his left rear leg in the iron swirl that is one of the feet of the plant stand. He and the plant stand were now… well… one. Kind of like a Vulcan mind meld. The amazing thing is this little dog was not yelping, or whining, or barking… he was just standing there completely still, realizing he could not move and that trying to do so HURT.
The next 10 minutes or so were interesting. I couldn’t get his leg out of the swirl without turning and twisting the entire awkward stand, and when I did move it he let me know that was painful. At this point I had no idea how injured he was. Or how long he had been in this condition (last five minutes? Whole two hours?) My wife Lisa was so upset she was visibly shaking and kept asking who we could call. We could not move him without hurting him, so taking him anywhere connected to a big stand was out of the question.
Enter the hacksaw.
At this point, since I was cradling the dog and trying not to move him while considering all options, I asked my wife to go downstairs to the workshop and get the vice grips and a hacksaw. She admitted she had no idea what either of those things looked like so the instructions were to bring back anything that looked like a saw or pliers. She returned with four options for each tool, and one of them was the hacksaw.
If you notice the picture, one leg is missing. After five minutes of slowly cutting the stand leg with one hand (while making sure to miss the puppy’s leg ), all the while cradling the puppy with the other hand, we could finally move him. It only took a moment to slowly spin the iron swirl off his leg just under the knee.
What we had now was a mildly traumatized puppy and a VERY traumatized Lisa (who simply adores this puppy to an extent not believed possible by the humans who have surrounded her for the past 12 years). We brought Tuukka some water and laid on the floor with him for 10 minutes or so. I kept gently squeezing his leg from hip to toe but he did not react in any way that showed pain.
We then had Lisa go downstairs and fill his food bowl so he could hear it. BOING. Up on all legs, right to the door, no limp, no problem. This dog, who gets love and attention 24/7, got even more that night.