It was on a late April afternoon that things took a horrible turn.The girls were in the backyard playing with Cheyenne while I went to the store.When I got back home and pulled into the driveway，a pickup truck came speeding down our street.I got out of my car，keys in hand，and saw that Cheyenne had gotten loose.She ran past me in a blur.
“Cheyenne！”I called out.“No！Get back here！”But it was too late.She chased after the truck，caught up to the front tires，and was flipped in the air before landing with a thud on the side of the road.
Luckily，the vet was still open and they took her right in.I kept watching Cheyenne’s side，willing her to keep breathing as the vet put her on the examining table.
“The front leg appears to be the worst of her injuries，”he said，pinching between her toes with a silver clamp.“The nerves have been damaged and she doesn’t have any feeling.I’m afraid we’ll have to amputate.”
The day of Cheyenne’s surgery was the longest day of my life.Nothing prepared us for what we would see once we went to pick her up.In the bottom cage，Cheyenne lay panting and blinking sleepy eyes，the entire right side of her body shaved clean from her stomach to her neck.A white bandage was wrapped around the shoulder area where her leg used to be.A plastic tube was also taped to the area to help the surgical site drain.She looked totally miserable.Tears slid from my eyes as I saw Cheyenne’s tail give a faint wag.
That night we all camped on the floor to sleep next to Cheyenne.As shemoaned in agony and lay on the side unable to move，I kept trying to picture her as she used to be：running，playing，jumping up on the bed to snuggle down next to me.I felt frightened and uncertain，wondering how she would ever be that same carefree pup again.In a way，I understood the kind of trauma she was going through.One day you were happy，then life just shattered，leaving you in a world of pain.