Ole Joe, the three legged dog

We had a dog when I was small that was black. I don’t know what breed he was, I think just a mixed mutt which a lot of times end up being the best. Anyway ole Joe decided he was dad’s dog. He always was with dad or in dad’s pickup

One time Joe disappeared and we looked everywhere for him. I got on my horse and went around to the neighbors asking them if they had seen Joe. I rode down through the canyons. My brother rode his bike around looking for Joe.  I was so sad and my dad was really upset. I was coming home from riding down Frog Springs when I noticed something moving in dad’s pickup, yep it was old Joe. I think he must have been going to the canal for water that was near. The pickup had broke down and dad left it at the corner of the 80 acres and him and Joe had walked home.  He must have been laying down when we had gone by before and no one thought about Joe walking a mile to get back to the pickup. So for two days he had lived in the pickup.

Later ole Joe disappeared again, we looked everywhere again, same story as before except no Joe and the pickup was home. We looked for a week and still no Joe, almost two weeks later mom said that the smell of something dead was getting stronger every day and it smelled like it came from under the house. Dad was sure it was ole Joe crawled under there and died. 

He got a flashlight and crawled under the house, yep there was ole Joe clear back in the littlest corner and he was alive but his leg was destroyed. Dad could not fit under the beams there to get to Joe and he would not come, he was very weak and half alive. Dad sent me under the house to get Joe since I was the smallest.

I got to ole Joe and he looked at me and I looked at his leg. It was gross! His leg was bloody, bones sticking out all over, pus leaking and maggots everywhere. I did not want to touch him but dad said if I did not pull him out he would die. I grabbed a hold of ole Joe and started dragging, he whimpered very soft and I started crying. Dad said “Linda you have to do it even if it hurts him”. I pulled again crying louder with each pull but I finally got ole Joe up close enough dad could get a hold of him. My dad had tears in his eyes too.

We got ole Joe out from under the house and dad took off in the pickup to the vets office. They took ole Joe’s leg off and part of his shoulder as gangrene had set in.  It healed great and ole Joe was a 3 legged dog for years and it did not even seem to slow him down. Some hunter had shot ole Joe in the leg.

Me I was sure it was the maggots that ate ole Joes leg off.