Mary Morony, Author of Apron Strings, Done Growed Up and If It Ain't One Thing

Bionic Boy’s Miracle Cure

Dog BlogBionic Boy’s Miracle Cure

Mary: Hagar has asked me to be a guest blogger and to share this tale of his recovery. He said he thought it was better coming from me.

Hagar: Well, that wasn’t exactly what I said, but I’m not interested in lifting my leg on this rock.

Mary: I hope I don’t hurt your feelings when I refer to you as a badly-bred Great Dane.

Hagar: Do you have to do it in public?

Mary: You do suffer from both Wobblers and Cruciate Degeneration Disorder. Those are the facts pal. I don’t know how to sugar coat them. Besides, you asked me to tell your story.

Hagar: Right, I did. Just be kind. After all, I had spent six weeks inside getting over a huge operation. What do you expect from a dog?

Mary: Are you ready for me to tell the story or do you have something else to add?

Hagar: Nope, go ahead. I’ll stay quiet.

Mary: Bionic Boy,

Hagar: I love it when you call me that.

Mary: Bionic Boy was given the go-ahead to enter life again as a full-fledged member of the mostly outside club after spending six weeks inside recuperating from his TTA (tibial tuberosity advancement.) In those six weeks, he had become attached to me at the hip.

Mary:aka Hagar, was given the go-ahead to enter life again as a full-fledged member of the mostly outside club after spending six weeks inside recuperating from his TTA (tibial tuberosity advancement.) In those six weeks, he had become attached to me at the hip.

Hagar: I love you.

Mary: You said…

Hagar: Okay, okay go on tell the story.

Mary: In a style that he had become accustomed, Hagar lounged around on the sofa when he thought he could get away with it. There were also nocturnal trips to the bedroom just to ease into the bed between Hubs and me (as if we wouldn’t notice a Great Dane climbing over us in the middle of the night.) He is, after all, a dog, not a rocket scientist.

Hagar: Yeesh, That’s harsh.

Mary: Not that I wanted him to feel unloved, but I was ready for the behemoth to move out.

Hagar: Groan!

Mary: The very morning he was declared sound, I rocketed his bed back into the garage alongside his sisters’. Before you get to up in arms with this arrangement, it is pretty sweet. The garage is heated. Everybody has their own compartment, complete with comfy beds and there are carpets.

Hagar: Nice digs I can go outside without having to ask. That makes barking at the moon so much easier. They aren’t too keen on letting you go out if all you want to do is bark.

Mary: Are you through? Can I get back to the story? I went off to do what I do, delighted that my five-hour curfew was over. Five hours was random. I didn’t know how long Hagar could be in the house without feeling an irresistible call from nature, and wasn’t interested in finding out. Being the creature of habit that he has trained me to be, I was home in is less than four hours, despite the fact that we both had been sprung that morning. As I drove up the drive, Sophie, and Lots, tongues lolling, and tails wagging, greeted me.

No Hagar. In my most Pollyanna fashion, I dismissed any nagging thought as to his whereabouts with the rationale that it’s warm. He’s probably lying in the shade somewhere. As I trudged back and forth with groceries, I spied Hagar on the lawn. He was inching forward with a severe limp that could only mean the other ACL had ruptured.

Hagar: Dog, it hurt too. I mean to tell you.

Mary: Exactly four hours of under-appreciated freedom took on a significance that would have to be experienced to be fully understood, not unlike finding your canteen empty after leaving the oasis some, say four hours earlier. The sick feeling of watching him struggle over to me only mitigated by the sicker feeling of six more weeks of playing Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy to what was fast becoming the most expense dog on the planet.

Hagar: But I’m so worth it, right?

Mary: Yes you are worth it, but back to the story. Hagar and I were at the vet’s that afternoon. The good news, the ligament had not torn completely. The other good news was that my vet is a master laser wizard, was on the verge of learning a new skill. He suggested that Hagar would be a good candidate for the stem cell replacement therapy that a fellow veterinarian was going to teach him the next Tuesday.

Hagar and I listened as he explained the procedure. An incision is made in the abdomen to obtain some fat, which was the most difficult part of the process since Hagar’s body fat percentage might be three. They put the fat in a centrifuge. Presto magico, stem cells!

I’m guessing there is more to it than that, but that’s all I could remember. The inject the newly harvested stem cells into the knee joint. Here’s the cool part, after injecting the stem cells, the vet uses an intravenous laser to irradiate the stem cells which supercharges the little buggers to do what they do more.

Since it was Friday, I hauled his bed back up to the kitchen and begrudgingly hung leashes on all exterior doors. The weekend was problematic, in that Hagar felt he neededcanine cunundrums to assert his dominance due to his weakness.

Hagar: You’d do the same if you were feeling as badly as I was.

Mary: Since we had guests, there was a whole lot more basso profundo barking than usual. Tuesday couldn’t come fast enough for me. I dropped him off at eight and picked him up at six, a fully mobile dog. You had to look hard to find a limp. He was completely ready for assimilation into the outdoors ten days later enough time for his abdominal wound to heal.

Hagar: Nice job with the story. Thanks, maybe I’ll get you to do another guest blog someday. Hagar out for now!




  1. Denise

    6 July

    Hagar is SO BRAVE! Love him. Take good care of him, Mary 🙂

  2. Debora

    7 July

    oh my goodness. it sounds like a miracle cure. nicely done. would it work on my knee? please forward vet contact info. we now have Grace (blk lab), Chance (JRT) and Pye, rescued in FL. half pomeranian, half chihuahua. dropped at a kill shelter. we now have the mod squad, one black, one white, one red. xoxoxo

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

By using this form you agree with the storage and handling of your data by this website.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

); ga('require', 'linkid'); ga('send', 'pageview');