- i don't care what universe you're from.. that's gotta hurt -
Star Wars: The Phantom Menace
If you made a critical confirmation judgement on Stora you would note many seemingly flaws in his physical makeup and you would be correct. Too long in the back, legs too straight, no angulation.
From this assessment you would think it hardly likely Stora would be able to run. But you would be wrong. Stora is an example of everything wrong turning out right. The result being a one hundred and fifty pound, thirty-six inch tall Irish Wolfhound who could run like the wind and perform acrobatic manoeuvres that would astound you.
These reasoning and acrobatic talents saved Stora, on several occasions. Turning probable broken legs or neck into just a bad scrape or no injury at all. I'm not sure I would have believed what happened if I hadn't been there when these events occurred.
As he put down his front left paw for his next stride, it went down into a crevice between two concrete drainage pipes. The space was only three inches wide but his paw had managed to find it dead centre. Stora realized immediately he was in trouble. Remember, he was travelling at about thirty miles an hour at this point.
It didn't happen. Some how he turned himself around, facing back the way he had come, pulled his paw out of the hole, then turned again landing on his back and skidded about twelve feet. He lay there for a few moments, stunned, but then got up, shook himself and limped back toward me. I in turn was hurrying to him.
As soon as I reached him I ran my hands over his legs and back but incredibly there were no broken bones. His leg, however, was a mess. When he pulled his paw back out of the hole he had dragged it against the edge of the concrete pipe as he sailed over and scraped off a patch of skin about five inches long and two inches wide. There was no skin left, the wound was right down to the muscle. It was really ugly.
Arlene and I packed Stora into the car and off we drove to our vet who is a wonderful vet and a skilled surgeon. When he finished patching Stora's leg there was still a gap two inches wide showing raw because the skin had been completely torn away.
Our main problem was to keep Stora from ripping off his bandages and re-opening up the wound. We'd replace the bandage, smearing it with a variety of anti-ripping-off-bandage concoctions. None of which worked for very long. But eventually it healed over enough that we could feel relieved there would be no further complications.
It wasn't long before Stora was again roaming the field with his usual energetic flair but the wound on his leg never completely healed over. It was Stora's agility and intelligence which saved him that day and we were very, very grateful.