Jackson entered our lives two years ago last week. I think he has nine lives, like a cat, because we rescued him from the woods, brought him out of malnutrition, cured his adult heart worms, and now put together his broken leg. This is an old picture from his happier days on the back porch of our old house. I've never really loved a family dog until Jackson. He's my buddy.
Today I was concerned about Jackson's cast and paw because he wasn't walking on it all week. We took him to the vet to check it out. Now Jackson needs more prayer. He has a pressure sore under the cast that is now infected and might need surgical removal of necrotic tissue. He's on antibiotics and painkillers again. I've already gone back to my original nursing training to change the dressings on another pressure sore higher on his leg. That one's healing nicely since the doctor adjusted his cast to prevent more rubbing on the sore.
We are supposed to have an x-ray this week to see if the cast can come off in the next 1-2 weeks. I don't know what will happen now but Mark, Jackson and I are all so tired of the lampshade and bed rest. Even if the bone has healed we've got to get the open wounds under control. Poor, poor Jackson.
birthplace of Oliver Wendell Holmes in Cambridge
Liz and I in the Arboretum 
Liz and Josh in Cambridge
