Who rescued who? How Foxey and I got started
Who rescued who? How Foxey and I Began
I was born with a spinal abnormality and immune deficiency that required me to remain isolated from most activities while undergoing surgeries and rehab to save my life. This meant me staying home unless I had treatments.
For someone who walked and functioned like an average child, to abruptly become quadriplegic was quite the challenge, physically and emotionally. Relearning the most fundamental things we didn't think about, like sitting up, was challenging.
Learning to function again
I was focused entirely on physical therapy, regaining my independence, and school. I spent approximately 12 hours weekly in physical, occupational, and speech therapy. I then spent several hours each day doing schoolwork which I loved. But outside of these activities, I wanted to be left alone.
My parents and therapist thought that a pet would be beneficial. They had adopted a cat and a genie pig, both of which I was allergic to, and had to rehome within the first month. They wanted me to be part of the process, but I had zero interest. They felt it gave me something to take care of and activities to look forward to.
My parents couldn't bear to do that again, so they moved on with the doctor's approval to enroll me in various community activities. I am a sporty farm girl, not a princess, and the only activities doctor approved I had zero interest in. Panama City had a dance class for disabled children, and my parents enrolled me. We argued, and I agreed to take a dance class for one recital if they decided to drop this whole debacle and let me come to terms in my own way.
My parents were hoping that being around others in similar situations would help. My therapist agreed that support groups were the best method of recovery. The dance instructors were, for the most part, physical and occupational therapists. They were wonderful people, and I overall liked talking with them.
Unfortunately, children with similar issues to me are typically entirely paralyzed from the neck down and don't have the mental capacity to understand what's going on. This is what the class was made up of, and while they were sweet, that atmosphere was not what I needed.
The day I had dreaded since enrollment had arrived, the recital. I was not too fond of makeup, bows, dresses, having my hair done, or anything frilly. To me, this was just a means to end the things I despised. Got on stage, did what I promised, and was glad it was over. I couldn't wait to get home and get this hideous stuff off me.
My mom collected cookie jars and received a call that a couple she had collected was going up for auction. This meant that the day wasn't over yet. Still in this getup, we stopped by auction on the way home. The best thing that could have happened.
There was a man outside with a litter of Pomeranians. They were gorgeous, but the man neglected them. The holding pen looked like it's never been cleaned, the puppies looked dirty, and the man thought feeding them cat food was ok. I was told not to be near them because my parents feared I would get an infection. While my parents were looking at cookie jars, I was staring at the pen and intrigued by the little runt in the back but doing as I was told not to get in trouble.
I'm glad my mom turned and looked at me because this little fox-colored tumbleweed jumped over the pen, ran right toward me, jumped on my footpads, and into my lap. It was love at first sight, and I begged my parents to rescue her.
My mom tried to talk me out of it and said if I wanted a puppy, they would get me one, but this one probably had to allot of health issues. I had no interest in another puppy; I wanted that one. Despite my parent's hesitation, they agreed.
And this was the start of a beautiful friendship.