Tag: tripod

Three Years Kickin’ and a Flying Dutchman Too

Three legged tripod spokesdog German Shepherd Wyatt Ray celebrates his birthday.

You know three is the magic number, right? Well guess what? Three is MY number today! Woo hoo! It’s my birfday!

It’s been a long haul from the nasty Oaktown ‘hood where I was born, to where I am today, but now that the bad stuff is behind me it’s been nothin’ but good times since I found my pack.

Not that my big day was a wild pawty or anything, because you know how it goes when your birthday falls right after the holidays. But even though we were all pawtied out from our time with Santa Paws, Mom and Dad made it special, and went out to get me a Flying Dutchman from In ‘N Out’s Secret Menu!

Hey Abby girlfriend, they’re just as good as you always say they are. Yum! Nothin’ better than two burgers and some cheese. I gobbled it up in two second flat.

And that was my big day. I know this year’s gonna be great, because you can’t go wrong with the number three!

 

Here Comes Dr. Feelgood

Tripawds three legged spokesdawg Wyatt Ray goes for exploratory surgery at Colorado State University.

Hah! None of you got the answer to my contest right. But none of you got it wrong either.  Even those smarty pants Colorado State Vets didn’t know.


They poked and prodded and sliced, and . . . uh oh. Nothing came out. Nothing smelly or icky or runny or anything good like that.

Finally the vets came out and said “So, it could be this, or it could be that, but it doesn’t look like cancer. But we need to ‘go in’ and see.”

Before I knew it, Mom was giving me big hugs and then the nice lady vet walked me down the hall away from Mom and Dad. And that was that. So here I sit in a cold steel kennel, waiting . . . . (I’m sending this to my Mom psychically, you know?).

Tomorrow,  Dr. Feelgood is gonna zonk me out and when I wake up, we’ll know what to call that creature in my leg.

Down the rabbit hole I go.

Later!

 

 

Three Legged German Shepherd Beach Bum

Crazy three legged German Shepherd tripawd Wyatt Ray Dawg plays on the beach in Humboldt County, California.

Oh Northern California, how I miss you so!

Even if the sun didn’t shine when I visited you, at least you gave me lots and lots of room to run and go wild! Ah, the memories.

Ranger Referees Monkeydog vs. Monkeybutt

Tripawds three legged dogs meet up at a member party in Nevada.

Three legged dogs, unite!

Wherever you are, always remember that somewhere out there you have a comrade who’s watching your back.

No matter where you are, there’s a Tripawd friend you can turn to when the going gets ruff.

The Nevada Pawty

A few weeks ago I got to meet fellow Tripawd Ranger at our Tripawds Pawty in Nevada.

Ranger is a  Tripawd like me, but a little older. He thought I was just a kid because I kept getting in his face.

Hey, isn’t that how you’re supposed to say “I wanna PLAY!”?

Ranger made it very clear that he was in charge. I thought he was cool. See how I let him attack me?

He thought I was obnoxious though. Still, we hung out and didn’t kill eachother.

But wait, there’s more . . .

Rocket Meets His Match

At the pawty, this white fluff ball showed up.

I thought perhaps it was an appetizer.

So I lunged toward it, and barked really loud to see what it was.

But then the fluff ball jumped up! He was  a scruffy little thing. After looking at him, I realized he would not have made the most satisfying meal.

Then the scruffy appetizer let out a very. big. bark.

“Whooooah buddy! I just wanna smell you! Chill!” I said to him.

But no luck.

Rocket didn’t want to be my friend, and he took over the couch too. In fact, he looked pretty mad that he was there.

His Mom, who is very sweet and beautiful, thought I was the greatest. She said I was a lot like her Spirit Rugby. I took that as a great compliment.

After a while, Rocket calmed down and even fell asleep. Everyone gave him all sorts of attention. He’s supposed to be famous or something.

He tolerated our racket for the afternoon though, and when it was over, you could tell he was glad to be outta there!

Before we said our goodbyes, Rocket’s Mom made us put on our silly hats, and take this picture to show the world that the Monkeydog versus Monkeybutt Match definitely didn’t lead to bloodshed.

See how we’re all so hoppy?

Everyone was so cool. Thanks for coming to my pawty! Can we do it again sometime?

I promise not to try to eat Rocket!

My Great Adventure, Colorado to Idaho, Part 1

Three legged Tripawds Spokesdawg Wyatt takes a road trip to meet other tripod dogs from Colorado to Washington and beyond.

With all these miles behind us, now we are in this dark rainy place called Oregon, I’ve been too busy barking my way down the highway to stop and tell you about my adventures, so here goes.

Colorado

When we were in Colorado, I got to hang with Calprunia, queen of the Tundra and her Odaroloc Sled Team.


Cali, being the Queen, and 15 years old and all, supervised while me and the team ran laps around her estate.

I never get to run like that! Let me tell you, those guys can run!

I thought Calpurnia was so beautiful. She never said anything, but all of her power was in those eyes of hers.

I think I’m in love with an older woman.

A Legend Meets a Legend


Later, I got to hang with this old dude named Eisen.

Mom and Dad were mad because I tried to get him to play by barking and running circles around him, but he would have none of it.

He just tried to play it off like he was some cool dude who didn’t like getting dirty or something. 

Mom said I was disrespectful. After all, Eisen is a 12 year old living legend (like me, right?) and he has lived with osteosarcoma for almost three years now. Oh and Spirit Jerry got to play with him too, so they thought I had to be nice.

That Jerry, always messin’ things up for me. Blah blah blah.

OK OK, I get it, he’s a hero.

But he still didn’t want to play with me, so I was mad.

Going West!

After Eisen and Calpurnia, we went to New Mexico, Arizona Utah and Colorado all in one day. Apparently this marker thing was something very important and showed exactly where I was, so Mom and Dad made me sit on it.

Then it was hours, and hours of driving, and more driving. I don’t know how Dad does that. Mom just sits there with yarn and these sticks of some sort, moving them around.

When I wasn’t asleep I was at truck stops and gas stations, saying hello (“BARK!”) to everypawdy to announce my arrival.

Crossing the Snake River

After a while, we got to this place called IDAHO….

No, YOU DA HO!

hahahaha! I kill myself!

And with that note, I’ll paws for now and save my best stories for next time, when I got to meet the one, the only, James the Poodle! (Who I was very, very good around!).